


To Live and Die in Los Santos

by geometrix



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunters, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Betrayal, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, GTA!AU, Heist, Michael's Heist, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geometrix/pseuds/geometrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Los Santos: a place people go when they want to live like rock stars. But for Michael, bad luck gets him on the first day, and he very quickly finds himself dragged back into a life of crime. With a crew he doesn't know if he can trust, and expectations he doesn't know if he can fulfil, the pressure is high. And when every crew member has their own dark secrets, Michael finds himself going to the extremes to ensure he makes it out alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Michael's Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? After the explosive response I got to my last fic, and people saying they will read anything I put out again, I wanted to make sure the next one I wrote was a good one. I took a break for exams, and now here I am, back again with a whole other universe, a whole other story!
> 
> Once I've finished writing the fic, I will be uploading a chapter a day. However, while it's still a work in progress, this will be the only published chapter, as a kind of work in progress. So enjoy!

Stepping out into the bright San Andrean sun, Michael could tell immediately that his new life was going to be a lot different from his last. The way the proud sun spread through the sky, uninterrupted by skyscrapers climbing into its territory, and the way the people didn't make every effort to prove their worth to you in the two seconds of irrelevant time in which they passed you in the street. The effortless elegance of the southern city, the Vinewood sign watching guard of all the residents: Los Santos was a whole other world from Liberty City.

He pulled his front door behind him, and turned the key in the rusting lock. Here he was, finally breathing fresh air that had not passed through countless prisoners before it met his own lungs. It wasn't even as if Michael had served a lot of time, but as soon as the time he had served was up, he wasn't going to waste time hanging around.

His new home was now East Los Santos, Los Santos County, San Andreas. The house he'd bought wasn't much. In fact, it was a bit of a wreck. It looked like the previous owner had tried to paint it as if it were on the Vespucci coast: its olive-green wooden front door clashed with the pale lemon yellow of the sliding. The paint was peeling unattractively, and what there was of a front garden was just ripped up, drying grass littered with patches of hardcore. There was only just space for Michael to park his car off of the road, and even then the uneven tiling of the driveway made that a difficult task.

Of course Michael could afford more. Maybe not Vinewood-level more right now, but he was definitely above the price range of East Los Santos. But after being so fresh out of jail, and not wanting to draw a load of attention to himself, he decided he'd start small: Buy a not-too-great house, but one that was enough for his needs, and get himself an inconspicuous car from someone who didn't look like they'd con him, but also didn't look like they made a hobby of selling family cars. It was the perfect Square One start for a perfect Square One life, and to kick it off, Michael was going to find the nearest bar.

Los Santos was an expensive city, so one of the main benefits to leaving in the eastern part of the city was the noticeable difference in price. Once Michael got back in the game, he was sure he'd spend more time drinking elsewhere, but for now, while he didn't have to worry about how he looked, whom he was with, how much money he was carrying, a cheap bar in East Los Santos sounded absolutely perfect.

It had taken Michael a while, admittedly, to think about whether he wanted to get back into the world of crime once he was out of prison. Of course, it's not always the smartest idea, and while he was locked up, he'd definitely seen a number of people make their way back. It was one of the reasons he'd decided to pack off to the other side of the country. After all, crime had been the pinnacle of Michael's life since he'd left high school – if he really was going to leave that life behind, how the hell would he make it by?

So he'd made his mind up not too long ago that, yeah, he wanted back in. But this time things were going to be different. This time there'd be no alliances, no rival gangs or crews to fight with. Michael just out for himself, working solo, and reaping every benefit of it. He smirked into the warm air. Yeah, things were gonna turn out great.

After he'd driven for about ten minutes down the road, constantly checking his phone to make sure he was going in the right direction, Michael made it to the bar. There were a couple of cars outside of it: old, rusting ones that were practically falling apart. Michael got the vibe that a lot of the business that was done in East Los originated in East Los. No one here seemed to mind that it was a collapsing shithole. They just seemed to keep themselves to themselves.

The bar was small on the inside, and the dark room was thick with smoke. No conversations were audible, and rather there seemed to be a low hum of discussion coming from all depths of the room. The subtle smells of cannabis and whiskey tainted the air.

Michael could see the end of the L-shaped bar was vacant, and wormed his way around the customers to get there. The lack of immediate confrontation was both strange and relieving to him: there's no way you'd walk into a bar in New England and not have someone say something to you.

He bought his whiskey, and decided he was going to get used to this place. Despite the distracting smells and the constant noise, it seemed like somewhere Michael would be able to think clearly. He supposed it was because it was the opposite of prison: In prison the most you smelled was sweat. People weren't allowed cigarettes, or weed, or alcohol. People would confront you on the basis that they were bored. Here, people kept themselves to themselves, and did what they want. It was such a refreshing environment.

And Michael may have been having the most expensive whiskey there, but my God was it cheap.

After a couple of hours, Michael was feeling thoroughly relaxed. He didn't feel tired, but the fumes he was inhaling made him sleepy and comfortable. He didn't know how many whiskeys he'd had at this point, but he didn't feel drunk drunk. Just comfortably intoxicated.

The peace floating around in his head was interrupted, however, by the sound of an exhaust outside. And it appeared the locals noticed it too: it wasn't the juddery, breaking-down sound that you might expect from a car in a place like this. It was more like a $300,000 kind of sound. Michael's first assumption was that either the car had been stolen, or the owner was very, very lost.

Michael was grateful that his spot at the bar had a clear view of the front door, as everyone else in here looked incredibly obvious, all gawping at it together. There was a united silence as everyone waited for something to happen, and then suddenly the front door was being smashed open, banging as hard as it could against the wall behind it.

In the doorway stood two men. They were both tall, but the first was a little shorter than the second. He was in what looked like it could be a very expensive suit, but it was covered in stains and dirt, and the shirt was half tucked into the trousers. The sleeves were rolled up to the man's elbows, revealing and endless array of beautiful tattoos that covered up every inch of his skin to his fingers. He wore a lopsided, loose bow tie, and his once-handlebar moustache was crooked and messy. Michael could tell he was furious.

The man came storming in, aiming straight for someone who was stood at the bar. Michael took a gulp of whiskey so it didn't look obvious that he was staring at the scene, but his eyeballs stayed glued to the corner of his eye.

The suited man grabbed the collar of the guy at the bar, forcing him back into the wooden surface and making him spill his drink. The bartender caught the glass before it had time to smash on the floor, but he didn't say much to stop what was happening.

'You owe us something,' he heard the man say in a high voice, not above speaking level, but the edge in his voice was like a serrated knife.

While the hostage was whimpering, Michael took the opportunity to get a glimpse of the second man who had come in. This one had an entire different aura about him to the first. He was about an inch or two taller, and he had long, light brown hair. It looked in place, despite Michael's doubts that this was the sort of man who spent time doing his hair. He wore a blue and black leather jacket that hung lazily off his shoulders, as if he'd just thrown it on before coming here. His jeans had marks down them that looked much less innocent, and a lot more red, than dirt. Michael noticed he was wearing heavy black boots that had been embossed with some sort of logo. He didn't think much of it before realising that the first man was wearing the exact same pair.

His attention now back to the scene, and noticed how the suited man was now holding some kind of pocket knife to the other guy's throat. The man who'd been standing at the bar with him had run off out of the front door, and the bartender was eyeing the scene warily from the corner of the room.

'You framed Kerry Shawcross,' Michael heard the suited man spit through gritted teeth.

The hostage whined, trying to pull his head away from the knife, but just succeeding in forcing his chin further into the depths of his fat neck. 'I didn't! I – I swear, I didn't! I don't even know who that –'

'You're gonna fucking make up for it, you scum-sucking shithead!' He was cut off by his attacker. This seemed to provoke the hostage into bursting into tears, to which the attacker responded by rolling his eyes, and punching him hard in the face. The hostage almost lost his balance, forcing his hands hard down on the bar behind him into the pool of beer that he'd previously spilt.

The attacker chose not to say anything when it seemed his turn, but rather put his knife away in his pocket. His eyes briefly met Michael's before he turned back to the second man, his left hand still firmly clutched around the collar of the hostage.

'You fuckin' ready?' he said only just audibly to the second man, who whipped out his phone from his back pocket, and held it up to the two without a word. He nodded, which prompted the first man to make his next move.

He pulled the hostage harshly by the collar, so he was right in front of the second man's phone. His shoulder was being restrained, and no matter how hard he tried to withstand it, he couldn't move from his locked position.

'Talk to the fucking camera,' his attacker hissed in his ear. Even when he was talking in a low voice, it was still pretty high.

The hostage whimpered for a second, but when the grip around his collar tightened on his neck, he forced himself to speak.

'It was me,' he choked, air barely passing into his lungs. The attacker loosened his grip. Probably more because this video was going to the police [or so Michael thought], than for the man's actual safety. 'Kerr – Kerry Shawcross – is – innocent!' His face was going red now.

Michael watched as the attacker threw the man backwards into the bar, a move that he was clearly not expecting as he fell into the bar stools, knocking them over domino style. The attacker grabbed the phone off of the second man, and barked a name into the camera, presumably the name of the man who they'd just been filming. He cut the camera, and then stormed out of the front door without even looking back. The second man contemplated leaving, but before he did, turned and delivered the hostage the bloodiest uppercut Michael had ever seen. It seemed to knock the guy out cold, because there wasn't even so much of a twitch from him as he laid bloodied across the bar.

The last thing Michael saw of the man before he walked out was his boots: the ones that had been the same as the guy in the suit's. That did something for Michael in his head. It just made him so curious he could hardly handle it. Were these men part of a crew? Was Kerry Shawcross some crew member that this guy in the bar had been caught conning? It would explain why the bartender had done nothing, Michael thought, if gang politics found itself visiting his bar fairly regularly.

Sure that he'd be thinking about it all night if he stayed sat, Michael threw down the money for his drinks, and hurried out of the bar. The men hadn't even left yet. They were standing next to their car, which turned out to be a flawless white Grotti Cheetah. The perfectness of the car was a definite contrast to the state of the two guys' clothing, but Michael knew that if he were them, he certainly wouldn't be complaining.

He crept over to his own car: a Benefactor Schafter sedan that he'd bought just yesterday when he'd first gotten here. It was a peeling silver, and rust ran along every edge of it. If these guys gave that Grotti everything it had when leaving, Michael didn't have a hope in hell of keeping up with them, but he was going to try anyway.

When they finally left, Michael reversed out of the car park and slowly began to follow them up the street. The brightness of the car looked more than out of place in the dull, rotting scenery of East Los Santos. Dilapidated buildings and No Trespassing signs scream stories of poverty, whereas the Grotti was the physical embodiment of arrogant privilege.

At first, Michael made a effort to remain a few cars behind them, so they hopefully wouldn't notice him following them [they definitely didn't look like the sort of guys that Michael wanted to piss off], but when they got onto the busier roads, it became clear very quickly that Michael was going to have to make more of an effort to even keep up with them and see where they were going.

First they turned south down Davis Avenue, but ended up going back up Strawberry Avenue which faced north-east. They were driving recklessly, and Michael could tell they were having fun with their car. He simultaneously shared the feeling, knowing how much fun they must be having, but also felt resentment as their recklessness was making it harder for Michael to track their movements.

He felt his foot go numb as it stayed glued to the floor with the pedal, trying his very best to keep the Grotti in his sights, when suddenly he saw it take a very sharp left off the road somewhere towards Innocence Boulevard. Confused and suspicious, Michael decelerated and decided to drive slowly past the mouth of the alleyway – it would be enough for him to see what was going on down there, but not as stupid as actually following them.

When he reached the alley, he positioned himself so he'd have a good view down it. What he hadn't expected to see was the two guys from the bar stood in front of the parked car, rifles in each of their hands and aiming right at him. Michael didn't even have time to contemplate what he'd just seen, before he felt an overwhelming rush of adrenaline sweep his body, and force him to slam his foot down on the accelerator.

Michael was driving for his life in his cheap, old car while two gun-wielding maniacs, who probably had a gang on their side, were after him in a car that could catch up with him faster than he could blink. One day in this city, and Michael did not know these roads well enough to be weaving in and out of the traffic like he was, taking random turns when he could in a hope to shake off the crooks that were after him.

He found his car screaming up Strawberry Avenue. He could see the hills approaching, and to be honest, if he had to go up there then he would. Who knew what these guys would do to him if they caught him. Back in Liberty City, Michael had always been taught to serpentine when driving away from someone. Even though he couldn't see the Grotti in his rear-view mirror, he made the split-second decision to swerve left onto Power Street. His sedan could hardly handle the spontaneous movement, and ended up drifting right across the road when he slammed down the breaks to aid his turn.

But it was all over so quickly, when he felt the massive crunching jolt and his car being forced into the building beside it. All Michael could feel was his body being thrown against the wheel, explosion in his ears, and then suddenly stillness, the gentle hiss of smoke rising from his car all he could hear.

He was breathing hard, unable to tell if any of his bones were broken or if he was okay. When the smoke cleared a little, he could see the great shape of the white Grotti plunged into the side of his car. He could see the two men lift the car's doors and step out, pretty much unscathed despite forcing his car into a building. Michael felt a lot of things until he realised that they were both walking towards him, guns held lazily in their hands. Then he just felt fear.

Michael felt like he'd been holding his breath, until the driver's door next to him was wrenched open, and the noise and clarity of the outside world rushed into his car. He squinted up at the men looking down on him, who said nothing. The shorter one in the suit leant in, and pulled Michael by his shirt as hard as he could. His seatbelt was still on, and it caused Michael's shirt to rip. He didn't want the man to hurt him for not complying, or something, so he fumbled with the seat belt until he was free, letting himself be forced out of the car.

He hardly even noticed what a wreckage the crash had caused as the man dragged Michael over to the steps of the apartment complex they were outside of, and threw him down on them. Michael felt his back crack against the concrete, and felt a shoot of pain through his skull as his head collided with the ground.

'I'm – I'm sorry,' Michael whimpered, half trying to save his neck and half trying to find out what the men were going to do with him. They both ignored him, the suited man snarling in his face as he leant down, the butt of his carbine rifle pressed into Michael's throat. His forefinger was caressing the trigger, and Michael could feel the man's alcoholic breath tickle the cuts on his face.

But his attention was snatched away from the man when he felt another surge of sharp pain shooting up his right arm. The other man had brought his heavy, branded combat boot down onto Michael's wrist, restraining him in his position. He too held his gun at Michael, but it didn't touch him; it just simply hovered a few inches away from his eye.

Michael gulped. 'Look, man, I didn't mean to –' But his words were cut off brutally as the suited man spat in his face, 'Why won't you just _shut the fuck up_?' Michael flinched, and fell silent.

The general attention seemed to move away from him, the two men towering over him turning to each other. They didn't seem to say much using actual words, but more like conversing in grunts and head gestures. Michael knew they were discussing what they were going to do from here. It was a classic gang technique: find a way of communicating between yourselves without making your intentions obvious. While they were doing that, Michael figured he'd take the opportunity to try and reclaim his arm. It was still locked under the taller man's boot, but he could see his hands turning purple from the cut-off blood supply, and if he could just move his arm slightly –

It jerked out from its trap, a sharp burst of pain accompanying it. Michael held his breath. That hadn't been as subtle as he'd planned on it being. He watched as the two men looked down at him, and as if perfectly choreographed, the one in the suit grabbed him by the collar, wrenched him upwards, and slammed him against the wall at the top of the steps, all in one flawless motion.

Michael tried his best to cradle his arm, but he was all too distracted by the man's forearm across his throat, cutting his oxygen, and the gun aimed directly into his chest where his heart was. He fought for breath as he screamed at himself inside for being so stupid and fucking up his life _so much_ when he'd been out of prison for just _two fucking days_. He could feel his heartbeat rising rapidly, his brain clawing at any scrap of oxygen it could get, his eyes glazing over...

'Not here.'

Suddenly the arm came away from Michael's throat, and he fell forward, clutching at it and gasping audibly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the taller man hold his arm up to the one who'd had Michael against the wall.

'What?' Michael's attacker said impatiently. His voice was just as harsh and high-pitched as it had sounded in the bar.

The second man leant in to say something to the first under his breath. Then he leant back and returned his voice to a normal talking volume. 'I think we should probably take him to... Y'know.'

If he wasn't in so much pain, Michael would almost be amused by the contrast in the voices of the two men: the second man had a low, smooth voice which was the perfect antithesis of the first man's.

It looked like the suggestion had really tested the patience of Michael's attacker, but he lowered his gun anyway and nodded his head in agreement. Michael found himself being pulled towards the side of the apartment complex, where the men threw him into the back of a four by four, and began to drive away. Michael had no idea where they were taking him, and the idea that it was going to be somewhere out of public eye so they could kill or harm him easier didn't fill him with comfort.

Only a few minutes passed before he felt the car stop, and the first man pulled him out of the back. When his eyes adjusted to the outside light, he just had time to see that they'd pulled up in front of an Ammu-Nation, before he was forced inside.

From what Michael could see, there was only the cashier there. The second man strode over to the counter, having seen the dirty and scared look that the cashier had been giving them.

'Mind if we use the back room?' he sneered. Michael's eyes flicked to the doors that were signed as 'Shooting Range'. Apparently, he realised when he looked back, so had the cashier's. Before he even had a time to respond, the second man had grabbed him by the collar, and was snarling 'Thanks.' in his face.

After he'd thrown the cashier back to his side of the counter, he nodded to the doors, and lead Michael and his attacker in. Once they were through, he bolted the doors, and the attacker threw Michael to the ground.

Michael once again found a gun raised to him, the two men standing back.

'You're gonna fucking wish you hadn't followed us tonight,' the one with the high voice hissed.

'Hey – hey look!' Michael said desperately, trying to reason with them. Not that they looked like the kind of men who could be reasoned with. 'I'm not gonna tell anyone, I'm not gonna tell anyone who you are or what happened. I – I just saw y-your...' His waved his hand at the taller man's boots. 'I was curious. It was dumb, okay? I'm a fucking idiot, I was just interested...'

The men raised their eyebrows at each other, apparently unaware that their shoes would have ever attracted that kind of attention. But then the one wielding the gun looked back down and narrowed his eyes at Michael. 'Are you a fucking idiot?'

'I – uh –'

'Have you ever been involved in crime? Because that's not how it works. You don't just fucking follow someone because you think they might be affiliated with –'

'I just got out of prison,' Michael said, although the end of it trailed off, and judging by the man's face, Michael became sure that he shouldn't have interrupted him.

He looked mad for a second, before saying, 'Well how'd you like it if we put you back in prison?' But the way he was lowering his gun made Michael think this guy wasn't going to try and hurt him any more. Michael said nothing.

'Well,' the man continued, twiddling his moustache with his vacant hand. 'We don't want to go to prison either, and we can't guarantee that you're not going to tell anyone –' He held his hand up to stop Michael from trying to talk back. '–So you're going to do us a favour. That way, we gain something, and it gets you tied up enough in our business that if any of us go down, you come down with us.'

It was then Michael's turn to talk. He'd seen this tactic used before, in fact, he was pretty sure he'd probably used it once or twice in the past. It basically left him with no choice but to agree.

'Alright,' the man said, giving the taller man an acknowledging raise of the eyebrows. 'Let's go tell the others and get this plan into motion.'

Without looking back, he stormed out of the door back into the main shop, leaving the taller man to pick Michael up off the floor, and carry his gun back through. They were less forceful getting Michael into the car this time, and when the journey was over, Michael found that they were back outside the same apartment complex, the same crash scene, as earlier. It had gathered some attention since they'd been gone. 'Fake plates,' the shorter man said in Michael's ear when he caught Michael staring, as if he'd been worrying that the men were going to get caught for crashing their car. Suddenly Michael found himself grateful that he'd bought his car from someone who probably wasn't the most reliable when it came to nurturing the law.

'Hooooo-kay then,' the shorter man sighed, as he fumbled with some keys to get into the apartment complex. It suddenly clicked in Michael's mind that the reason they'd moved their little conflict was because this was where these men lived. This was a very impressive building, and it suddenly dawned on Michael that these were very talented criminals.

As he felt the man behind him jerk him in the back to move him through the front door, Michael could just hear the curses he was throwing at himself inside his head. 'Fuck you,' the voices said. 'One fucking day of being in this city, and you're already in a fucked-up situation with what is possibly the most threatening crew in Los Santos. Just fucking great.'


	2. The Fake AH Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael meets the crew behind the criminals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I finished it! I wrote the last five chapters in a solid four hours last night, which means it's time to upload regularly again! Enjoy..

Michael's preconceived ideas about the two men being very rich didn't turn out to be wrong: despite the average external appearance of the apartment complex, the inside was beautiful. There were two apartments to a floor, and each had its own polished white corridor leading to it, rays of the last scrap of evening sun pushing through onto the glassy floor. The front door to the apartment itself was made of many layers of glass, and was distorted enough so that you couldn't see through it. The effect was almost holographic. There was a keypad beside the door, into which the shorter man punched some numbers, and Michael heard a lock behind the door click.

The man whose apartment this was pushed through the door, and Michael found himself being nudged through by the taller man behind him. The first thing that Michael noticed once the door had been shut behind him was the pungent smell of cannabis in the air. He'd never been a user himself, but anyone who's lived in a city could recognise the smell from a mile away. The guys who'd attacked him didn't seem like stoners to him, but these days, no one was ever who you thought they were.

Once he was over the smell of the drugs, his attention gently fell on the apartment itself. It was almost like a work of art: the colour scheme of whites and blacks and oranges. In front of him was a small, wide staircase which finished on the floor of the main part of the room – and it was pretty much just one room, as far as Michael could tell, because everything was open plan. To his right, he could see another flight of steps delve below where he was, but he didn't think too much about where they lead, since he was still in awe of the main apartment.

He almost felt like his dirty shoes would be an insult to wear on the solid wooden flooring that spread itself across the main living space. The pristine white L-shaped sofa in the centre of the room looked like it had never been sat on before, and the spotless glass coffee table looked like it had been served a great injustice by having beer bottles and wine glasses resting upon it.

The hundred-inch TV screen mounted on the wall would have impressed Michael, had his breath not already been taken away by the view directly in front of him. It was like the outside wall of the apartment had been completely replaced with a window, and beyond it was the most perfect view of the Los Santos skyline, resting in the musky-pink veil of dusk. The setting sun could be seen just beyond the city, the glare of it reflecting right off of the walls of the apartment.

He was almost too distracted to hear someone clearing their throat behind him. He turned, realising he'd been side tracked, to see the suited man raise an eyebrow at him from the bar that separated the living space from the kitchen. Michael was about to speak, when he realised that they were not alone.

In the kitchen, resting on various surfaces, were three other men. They all looked so different from one another, like they'd all been put together as a result of a random selection off the street. Michael walked over to them. The smell of weed got stronger as he neared the kitchen, where he soon realised one of the men was taking regular puffs on a glass bong. When he looked up from his next lungfull, his eyes caught Michael. They narrowed suspiciously, the man almost forgetting that his bong was right there. Michael felt a brief familiarity in the situation, but before he had time to think on it, the suited man was drawing all of their attention to him.

'Aright, listen up,' he said, looking at no one in particular. 'The more observant of you might have noticed that Ryan and I brought in a little friend today.' They all looked at Michael. Michael looked up at the taller guy, who was apparently called Ryan.

'Well,' the other man said, continuing. 'He's gonna help us out a little. Caught this cocksucker following us in his car.' He clapped a hand firmly on Michael's shoulder. Michael felt something that could only be compared to the feeling when a parent recounts an embarrassing thing you did, and you just want to pretend it never happened in the first place.

There was a laugh from one of the men in the kitchen: he was a big guy, with a bushy ginger beard that he wore proudly. He looked the most relaxed out of all of them. 'God, that's a new one, isn't it, Geoff?'

The man whose hand was still gripped on Michael's shoulder laughed. 'Oh, you bet,' he said sarcastically. 'Where do the kids come up with this shit these days?' The two shared a laugh. Michael figured that the bearded man and the one who was standing by him [Geoff, apparently] were close. Either that or they'd been in business together for a long time.

Michael was pretty embarrassed now, and was grateful that the guy on the bong, the other guy in the kitchen, and Ryan, seemed all too preoccupied with their own lives to join in with laughing at him. He found that he hadn't even noticed when Geoff had continued speaking, because he was too busy watching the man in front of him puff on the bong to pay enough attention.

'...decided that this is how he's going to be of use to us,' Michael heard when he finally tuned back into what Geoff was saying. It was probably a good idea for him to actually start listening at this point.

Geoff turned around and gestured to Ryan to get something from the other side of the apartment, over by the sofa. Michael watched as he went over to a storage unit that bordered the wall, and pulled something out from one of the bottom cupboards. He became very quickly aware that he was the only one there to whom this was a new thing. The other guys in the kitchen seemed pretty much bored.

'This,' Geoff said, taking the massive board Ryan had brought over off of him, and resting it against the wall on the bar. On it were various maps of Los Santos city centre with annotations and scrawls across it. There were photos of all five men, with badly handwritten notes beside each one. Other pictures and clippings and notes littered the board. Michael knew immediately what this was: it was a heist plan. 'Is how you're gonna help us.'

'Jesus Christ,' Michael whispered under his breath.

Having prepared himself to hear the long pitch of how the heist was going to work, Michael was surprised to see Geoff completely disregard the board, and instead focus all his attention on Michael.

'But fuck that. Before we talk about that, we need introductions.' His face suddenly looked very serious, like Michael knowing who all these men were was the most important thing he could know.

'We'll start simple.' Geoff pointed his thumb to himself. 'Geoff. Leader.' And then to Ryan. 'Ryan. Heavy weapons shit, road getaway, and trigger-happy lunatic. Uncanny talent for evading cops. He's a fucking talent, this guy.'

'Got it,' Michael said confidently, but quietly.

Geoff ignored him, and pointed over to the man with the ginger beard. He seemed fairly friendly, but like he could knock you out cold in two seconds flat if you made the wrong comment to him. 'That's Jack. He and I have been in this for years. We're the original. Team OG, okay? Jack's our getaway, always. He's a shitty gunman but he's a fucking good flier. Everything we have here, is a result of mine and Jack's hard work, alright? He's good. Never doubt him.' Michael sensed there was a lot of loyalty between those two.

'Next, Ray.' Geoff pointed to the man who was smoking the bong. He looked up lazily, and gave Michael a hard stare. His beanie was resting just above his glasses, and his purple hoodie looked like it had been worn for weeks straight. His skin was dark but it looked like it could be darker, and his beard looked like he'd spent ten seconds shaving it. 'You need stealth? Ray is your guy. That dude can do anything with any gun, but snipers, man, he's a fucking genius. This crew would literally be lost without him. The day he moved down here from Liberty City was the day God said “Hey, Geoff, I really fucking love you, man.”'

As soon as Geoff had mentioned that Ray was from Liberty City, Michael was sure that was where he has recognised him from. Chances are, if you were in a gang or a crew up there, all the other gangs and crews knew you. Michael was sure he must have seen Ray's face in the crowds and fights at some point when they both lived there.

'And that,' Geoff said, finally pointing at the last man in the kitchen. He looked out of place: his designer shirt was creased, and his cargo shorts were a bright red that didn't match it at all, yet it still managed to look good. He made his crew boots look like a teen fashion statement, and he wore an expensive-looking pair of Aviators, despite them all being inside, and it being evening. He turned his head towards Michael, his mess hair barely moving as a result. 'That's Gavin. Came over to LS about a year ago from England. You'd never want him in stealth, but he's great for smuggling shit, because no one ever suspects him.'

Geoff took a big sigh, and looked at Michael expectantly. 'And that,' he said. 'Is the Fake AH Crew. Questions?'

Michael puffed out his cheeks and shook his head, trying his best to convey the message that he'd taken in all the information, despite there being a lot of it. Geoff seemed convinced, and turned his attention back to the heist planning board. 'In that case, we'll get back to business.'

Everyone turned to the board that was resting up against the wall, although the looks on everyone's faces suggested that they were all a bit sick of looking at it. The guy in the sunglasses – Gavin – didn't even bother to look up, and just opted to look around the room, or at his fingernails, or wherever really, as long as it wasn't what they were doing.

Geoff didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, he didn't bring it up. Instead, he slammed his finger hard into a point on the map, just north of the Olympic Freeway. 'This is a car dealership, run by a man named Simeon Yetarian.' Geoff contorted his voice around the last name, like he was making a joke from it. He very quickly switched to a sarcastic happy voice. 'He likes to repo people's cars, and then sell them on for double the price. What a great guy, huh?' He looked up at Michael expectantly, as if all the others had already heard his jokes. Michael didn't really react, other than a curt, 'Okay.'

'We don't know if he's here illegally or not, so if anything were to happen to his business... We don't know if he could go and press charges in case, y'know, he gets himself kicked out the country –'

'Not that that would be a bad thing,' Jack said, half light-heartedly. Geoff gave him a wry smile.

'It would be the first step in the Litter-Free Los Santos campaign,' Ray butt in, but with such a deadpan sarcastic voice that he could have easily been mistaken as being serious. Michael felt the corner of his mouth curl up in amusement, but decided that wasn't such a good idea, and turned back to the heist plan again, straight faced. Ray hadn't even looked up to notice.

'Put the trash in its rightful place,' Geoff sniggered, before catching himself. 'Anyway! Point is, we don't know where his rights really lie, because if he's here illegally, then they lie back in whatever the fuck country he came over from. If he is here legally, then we could have a cop problem. But – bah! When has that ever stopped us, huh?

'So, anyway, the plan. I'm gonna go in first. I'm kind of like the first distraction: Go in, ask about car prices, act like I give a shit about his shitty little... Whatever. His business, if that's what you can call it. I'll go in, be like, “yo, man, I was wondering if you could tell me about your car prices” and shit like that –' Michael noticed how animated Geoff's body language became when he was explaining, throwing his arms and shoulders around like he didn't even know he was doing it. '– And then  _Gavin_ is gonna come in –' He pointed to Gavin without even looking at him. '– And he's gonna run in wielding this gun, being like “Arrrgh, I'm gonna rob you!”, so he's, like, distraction number two. Because, y'know, while  _that_ 's happening, Ray and Ryan are gonna go in all sneaky, making sure they don't get spotted, and they're gonna destroy the CCTV. Bam, bam, bam!' Geoff's finger slammed down on a photo of the CCTV in the shop with every 'bam'. 'That's when Jack and I get in two of the cars that are there – we'll hotwire them and just jump them, and deal with keys later – and we go out the back, and go our designated routes. Jack, you're taking off towards Vespucci –' His finger aggressively traced a crude line that had been drawn from the mark of the dealership all the way up to Vespucci. '– I'm going up towards Vinewood. It's then that Gavin knocks out Simeon, with like, the butt of his gun or something? Or maybe his thick skull.' There was a pause for everyone to laugh under their breath. Michael only just heard Gavin mumble something about Geoff being a prick, but it sounded good-natured. 'Ray and Ryan take a car for themselves, drive out the back, and loop round so Gavin can hop in. Then they're gonna head off for Strawberry, and the Hill beyond that if, y'know, you guys think you're gonna need to for any reason.'

Geoff drew in a long breath, and sighed, hitting the board carelessly, and speaking in a nonchalant tone, 'And then we just lay low a little. We'll get all the cars resprayed and whatever, and then we sell them at a higher price later. Boom. Heist.' He turned to Michael, smiling. 'Good, huh?'

'Uh...' Michael stuttered. It seemed like a solid plan, sure enough, but he failed to see where he was being included in this. If Geoff didn't want him in the heist, then what the hell was it he was expected to do for them as their 'favour'?

But before Michael had time to ask, Geoff already delivered an answer. 'You're gonna be with me. We'll just act like we're brothers or something. Or, like, that you're my toyboy.' He laughed at himself, and the reaction the others gave suggested Geoff made jokes like this a lot, but Michael was a little taken aback.

Satisfied that the explanation was done, Geoff put the board away back in the living area of the apartment. Michael noticed Ray and Ryan share a quick glance before Geoff came back. He tried not to think anything of it though; he was sure that he'd be a bit hostile if some random guy had just stepped in on one of his crew's heists. Something gave Michael the impression that it was a little bit more than just that, though.

'There will, of course, be no cut for you,' Geoff said matter-of-factly when he came back. The guys didn't hang around to listen to a conversation that was clearly just intended for Michael. They dissipated, and went back to doing whatever it was they were previously: Ryan and ray sauntered off into the corner to speak together, Ray clutching the bong he'd had when Michael had first arrived; Gavin going off and sprawling across Geoff's pristine sofa, flipping through the channels on the TV, but not really watching what they were; Jack getting out his phone, and Michael could just see an investments page on the screen.

'Yeah,' Michael said. 'I figured.'

Geoff grunted in acknowledgement. 'You want a drink?' he said, gesturing towards his wine rack, and many bottles of liquor that stood proudly on the counter. Some of the labels Michael could read made him incredibly tempted, but he shook his head, declining the offer.

'Okay. Well,' Geoff said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. 'Should probably take you home then, since you don't really have a car any more.'

Michael felt his chest fall a little. He'd totally forgotten that his car was scrap metal on the side of the road right now. It's not really that he couldn't afford to get another one, it was just inconvenient. He'd really prefer to drive himself home, but it looked like he didn't have much of a choice.

Geoff addressed the whole apartment, telling everyone he'd be back, and that he had to take the Newbie home. Michael felt a bit abashed at the last comment. He didn't realise that, even though he had years of experience of crime under his belt, if you moved to a new city, you were still treated like the new kid.

Or maybe it was just because he'd made such an immature mistake earlier that day. Either way, he didn't like the look of this rut he was getting himself stuck in.

Michael followed Geoff out of the apartment, but they didn't go out the way they'd come in. After a few turns in a plain corridor, Michael soon discovered why: the door they went through, presumably to the outside world, actually led into a vast, polished garage. The floor and walls shone bright white, and every car inside was lined up perfectly, like a showroom fit for the president. Inside, Michael marvelled. He'd never spent that much on cars, but the sight of this garage was making him think twice about that. There were vehicles of every shape, size and need in here: a beautiful sleek black Pegassi Vacca beside a shining white Grotti Turismo R. A Truffade Z-Type sat proudly in the corner, looking like it had never been touched. A shocking purple Vapid Hotknife sat next to a BF Bifta, which, unlike the Truffade, looked like it had come face to face with a few mountainsides. It wasn't just cars either: a Pegassi Faggio and an LCC Hexer shared a corner with an old BF Surfer. This time, Michael couldn't get rid of the awe-inspired smile that froze itself onto his face.

'Come on, Twinkle Toes,' Geoff said, ten paces ahead of him and knowing exactly how Michael was reacting right now – Michael could literally hear the smile in Geoff's voice. There was a click as Geoff held a key up in the air, and a car somewhere unlocked. Michael couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when the car Geoff wandered up to was just an Obey 9F. Well, it was a beautiful car, and the average citizen would probably kill to own one, but when you compare it to the Vacca back there...

Michael wanted really to just keep his head down when he was in the car with Geoff. When he was with people he knew, he loved being the centre of attention, because it was just so much fun to mess around with. When he was around people he didn't really know, however, he just preferred to not be spoken to.

But he couldn't really ignore his surroundings as he so wished he could: as soon as Geoff pulled out of his garage, and the twinkling forest of light and life that was Los Santos at night entered his field of view, Michael couldn't help himself but stare out of the window in wonder. Liberty City was pretty, but Los Santos had this way of looking strikingly beautiful in a relaxed, effortless way. Liberty City was a proud place. Los Santos was just on a whole other level.

It didn't take long for them to get back to Michael's place. After being in Geoff's garage not half an hour before, Michael felt slightly embarrassed about his shitty little house in East Los Santos. Not that Michael spent much of his time caring what other people thought about him, but he knew already what kind of an impression he'd left on Geoff and the crew, and it frustrated him that he didn't physically have anything that would impress them.

It surprised Michael that Geoff didn't even seem to care, though. If anything, he loved Michael's place.

'Holy crap,' he said quietly, looking out of the front window to Michael's place. 'Man, I remember living somewhere like this when I first moved to LS.' There was a glint of nostalgia in Geoff's eyes.

'Yeah?' Michael said, looking at his house with a much different look in his eye to the one Geoff had. 'Back in Liberty I had a pretty decent place, but getting somewhere else like it here would have been a fucking stupid move.'

'Yeah,' Geoff laughed. 'Getting out of prison and straight away buying a fancy-ass apartment... Not exactly the smartest plan. But, like, soon you'll just be a name of a dude they once had in prison. Like, in a year's time they're not gonna give a shit who you are. Once you've got more work under your belt you'll be back living in sweet, sweet luxury.'

'More work...' Michael mumbled, half to himself. 'Like with the crew?' There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he remembered how he'd planned to be working alone after getting out of prison. Geoff, however, didn't seem to really notice. Instead he was staring blankly out of the car in the general direction of downtown. The skyscrapers that loomed so ominously over Geoff's apartment looked so far away from here. 'Maybe,' he said airily.

'Uh, right...' said Michael. 'I'll, uh, see you tomorrow I guess. For the thing.' He had opened his door and climbed out before Geoff snapped back to the real world.

'Yeah, dude. It's starting at nine, okay? And if you fucking bail...' Geoff gave Michael a dark look, which was all he needed to understand what the meaning behind it was.

Michael didn't answer, and just watched as Geoff drove away. He fumbled with the keys to his house, trying to set himself an alarm clock at the same time so that he would be up and ready for his next step in his life of crime.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to comment and leave kudos!


	3. The Dealership Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heist goes forward, but maybe not quite as Michael imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good to hear that you guys are enjoying this one so far! This one is more action-packed than the last two. Excited to see what you think :D

Despite being able to see his breath form in front of him, Michael wasn't sure whether he was shivering from the cold, or because of what was going to happen today. His alarm had got him up – reluctantly – on time, and now he was sat on his doorstep at 8.40am, watching East Los wake up. The news that he'd had on in the background as he'd gotten dressed that morning told him that it was going to warm up later on that day, but right now the air was crisp and cold, the colour of the sky visibly lightening. 

It was fifteen minutes later that he thought something must be up. Geoff had told him that the plan was commencing at nine. Well, it was five to, and where the hell was Geoff? He knew that Michael didn't have a car, so Michael had just assumed that Geoff was coming to get him...

But only when that thought came to mind did Michael consider the fact that actually that wasn't the case. Geoff hadn't outright told him that he was going to come and get him. All he'd said was that the plan was starting at nine. Chances are, Michael was expected to get himself there. Fuck.

Michael looked around. Much of the neighbourhood was still too asleep to notice anything that might happen around here. Too asleep to notice, say, a missing car...

He ran over to a driveway down the road. There sat an old, beaten-up car in front of a garage that was drowning in graffiti. Michael was astonished when he found the car was unlocked – he wouldn't even have to smash a window! Although, he thought, if he owned this hunk of junk, he probably wouldn't put in much effort to try and protect it either.

Once he was in the driver's seat, Michael leant forward and pulled off the ignition cover from under the steering wheel. He dumped it carelessly on the passenger seat behind him.

'Alright,' he whispered as a word of motivation to himself. He was a little out of practise – obviously he'd been eight months inside, and even before that, he was never the Car Stealing Guy in his old crew. Michael disconnected the wires from the main cylinder, and whipped out a pocket knife that he kept on his person at all times, so he could strip the ends of the red and brown wires. Carefully, he twisted the ends of the red wire together. The dashboard lit up, the radio blasting a current of Los Santos Rock Radio in his face. Michael slammed his hand down on the off button, and, satisfied that no one outside had noticed what was going on, got back to what he was doing.

Carefully, Michael touched the ends of the brown wires together. He jumped at the spark that ignited, but was overall relieved to hear the car start. Back in Liberty City, he'd always be sure to carry insulation tape with him, just in case he had to hot wire a car, but he hadn't even thought about it since moving down to Los Santos, so he just carefully placed the wires apart from each other, and forced the ignition cover back into place.

Eight fifty eight. Michael had two minutes to get across the city, in rush hour, all the way to Geoff's place. Even though the time hadn't come yet, he was certain he was going to get absolutely killed for being late.

Cringing at the prospect, Michael put the car into reverse, and began the journey to certain doom.

He was right about it being rush hour, but that didn't seem to stop him. Even in the shitty car he'd stolen, he was driving in between lanes up the roads, swerving around cars and making near misses with roadside objects and pedestrians. And the best bit was that it didn't matter who saw, because he had nothing to do with the person who was registered to this car. And neither, quite frankly, did the owner probably.

Rolling up outside of the apartment building where Geoff lived, Michael told himself that everything was going to be okay: he was only six minutes late.

He was impressed with himself when he remembered the route through the building to Geoff's apartment, and straightened his worn t-shirt as he waited for the door to be answered. It was Geoff who opened the door to him.

'Oh, it's you,' he said, letting Michael in without looking much in his direction. Oh dear. Michael felt like he'd already pissed Geoff off by being late.

'Were you expecting someone else?' Michael said, hoping his natural cocky personality would help him out.

'No,' Geoff said sharply, turning to him and giving him a dark look. 'Just didn't know if you were actually gonna show up or not.' It unnerved Michael how much Geoff could change: first he'd seen him leave some guy a bloody mess in a bar, then he'd been offered a drink and a lift home by him, and now he looked like he had the power to kill everyone Michael had ever known.

'Yeah,' Michael sighed. 'I didn't know if I was meant to come on my own or if you were helping me out like you did last night. Y'know, since I don't have a car anymore.'

'I'm not your chauffeur, okay.' Geoff glared at Michael. When he sensed that Michael was sufficiently nervous, he suddenly switched his entire demeanour. 'Besides,' he said, with laughter in his voice. 'If you hadn't turned up, I'd have just sent Ray over with a chain gun to end your sorry ass.'

Michael smiled awkwardly. He really didn't know where he stood with Geoff. He followed him unsurely into the kitchen, not really knowing what to do with himself. The others were dotted across the apartment, which meant that Michael didn't really feel entirely comfortable with going and sitting somewhere else. He saw Ryan and Ray by the massive, scaling window, miming what Michael assumed to be the technique they were going to use to bring down the CCTV cameras in the car dealership. It looked like they were playing a really awful game of baseball. Ryan, Michael noticed, was wearing the same leather jacket that he had been the previous day, but this time it was zipped up properly, rather than hanging carelessly from his shoulders. Ray was wearing the same hoodie he had been, too. Although when Michael had first seen it, it did look like it was something that had a permanent attachment to Ray.

His eyes flicked to Jack, who was examining the heist plan board. It looked to Michael that he was checking over all of the routes that they were going to take, marking off specific alleyways and destinations. There were also big circles now on the map indicating the locations of various Los Santos Customs shops across the city that they could all go and get their cars resprayed at.

Moving on, Michael looked over at Gavin, who was sat on a table right in the corner of the room. He seemed indulged in what was on his phone, which was a brand new iFruit. Consistent with his first impression of Gavin, Michael concluded in his mind that he was definitely a rich guy. He just looked like he didn't care much about it.

'So,' Geoff said, drawing Michael's attention back to him. He was pouring mixers into a glass containing a portion of vodka. 'The actual thing is gonna go forward later on today. But we all need to go out and buy gear first. Now, I don't know what money you've got, don't got, whatever. I'll just pay for your shit. Usually we use a “Who Plans Pays” policy, anyway. So, yeah, just, whatever we decide you need, I got it.'

He took a sip of his cocktail, and with a face full of relief and pleasure at the taste of the alcohol, he continued. 'By the way, I forgot to even ask yesterday... What is your name?'

Michael smirked. He hadn't even realised that Geoff didn't know his name. 'It's Michael,' he said.

'Michael?'

'Yeah, Michael.'

'Are you a Mike? Mikey?'

' _Definitely_ not Mike. Or Mikey. Or just... I think I'd rather gauge out my fucking eyes. Just stick with Michael.'

Geoff smiled his wry, twisted smile. Michael was sure he was going to be really irritating and insist on calling him 'Mikey'. He put his glass down and leant back on the surface behind him.

'Alright, Definitely-Not-Mike Michael. I'll remember that if it's so goddamn important to you.'

Geoff quickly turned his attention away from Michael, as if they hadn't even had that conversation at all. He was looking over at the rest of the apartment, his eyes darting between the four other men in it. He gave a whistle. 'Hey. You shitheads. You wanna leave now?'

Everyone gave each other a brief nod of acknowledgement, and walked towards the steps that lead up to the front door. Geoff did the same, and smacked Michael on his arm as he passed him to indicate that he should follow.

They all went out to Geoff's garage. Michael was sure not to looked too awe-inspired this time, since all the others could likely see him. They all had the same expressions on their faces as they would in some run-down public park: like they were bored and they didn't want to be there. I suppose, Michael thought, after heist upon heist starting from this garage, it starts looking a bit samey after a while. And no doubt these guys also had amazing cars.

'Jack, you take the Obey,' Geoff said, throwing Jack a single key without even looking at him. Jack caught it like a reflex, already headed in the direction of the car that Michael and Geoff had driven in the previous night. Ryan followed him, climbing into the passenger side. The rest of them headed towards blue Ocelot Jackal on the other side of the garage. Geoff got into the driver's side, with Ray in shotgun. Michael and Gavin got into the back.

When they'd driven out of the garage, Gavin turned to Michael.

'You excited?' he said, a mischievous grin on his face. Michael didn't know what to say at first. He'd been expecting a silent car ride, and Gavin's accent caught him off-guard like a punch in the face. Geoff had said he'd come from England, but Michael hadn't expected him to be so.. Well, English.

'What am I meant to be excited about?' Michael raised an eyebrow at him, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Gavin gave a derisive snort. 'Uh, looking like an absolute mingey twat?'

Michael looked out of the corner of his eye, away from Gavin. He didn't have any idea what he'd just said.

'Uh,' he mumbled. 'What is that?'

'You'll get used to Gavin's... Britishisms,' came Geoff's voice from the front. Michael smiled, thinking that he definitely was not going to get used to Gavin's Britishisms, if that's what they called it. Especially if he managed to get away from these guys after this 'favour' he was paying them.

'You're gonna look like a right prick,' Gavin said, translating himself. When he saw Michael's blank expression, he added, 'Because you and Geoff are going to get all your clothes and shit in Suburban? You're literally gonna look like a Vespucci middle class piece of white trash.'

Michael cringed, he hadn't been warned of this. 'No kidding?' he said.

'Nope!' Gavin spat out in a burst of laughter. 'I can't wait to see it!'

It didn't take them long to get to the store. It was only in Vinewood, so they were barely in the car for five minutes before they were parking up. It was a shop called Sub Urban, and now Michael understood what Gavin had meant by 'Vespucci middle class white trash'. Everyone passing in and out of the place, even though it was still just morning, had an average age of probably about twenty-two, tan lines so dark they could serve the Galactic Empire. And they all seemed to roll up in BF Surfers, or have a surfboard or a jet ski on the back of their cars.

'Come on,' Geoff said, pulling the key out of the ignition and stepping outside. The others followed. Michael was pleased to feel that the weather had warmed up, but figured it didn't really matter when he was going to be on the run from police later.

The four of them walked into the store, looking perhaps odd against the average clientèle, but relatively inconspicuous anyway. Geoff beckoned Michael over and began asking his opinion on shirts and cargo shorts and jackets he was picking out.

'We've just gotta look like massive losers, okay,' Geoff said in a low voice, aware that the cashier could be staring right at him. Michael resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment about them already being losers. No, he thought, you're here on business, not to make jokes at their expense.

Eventually he and Geoff settled on what they were going to wear: Geoff had selected a summery button-up shirt with khaki shorts and flip flops, and Michael had a vile lemon yellow t-shirt, an orange fleece, and camouflage cargo shorts. Absolutely certain that he couldn't look any more like an idiot than he already did, he picked up a pair of sandals. And proceeded to wear them over his socks.

'Nice outfit choice,' Gavin sniggered in his ear when Michael came away from the till.

'Hey! Geoff told me I had to look like a fucking loser,' he responded in a forceful whisper. 'I just figured I'd go all out.'

Gavin laughed incredulously, as if he thought that this was how Michael dressed all the time, and he just wasn't admitting it, but before Michael could call him out on it, Gavin was being ushered away by Geoff.

While Geoff and Gavin were picking out the ugliest hoodie and cargo shorts combo, Michael stood awkwardly at one side of the store. Ray was waiting by the door, clearly not needing to buy anything in here. Michael would much rather wait outside rather than in here, where he could feel the eyes of the cashier on him, but he wanted to spend as much time avoiding Ray as he could.

Soon it was time for them to leave. Michael took his opportunity to take the piss out of Gavin now he saw him in his heist gear: a dark green hoodie with purple cargo shorts.

'Alright,' Geoff said, before they got back into the car. 'We need to go to Ammu-Nation, and then a clothing store so Jack, Ryan and Ray can get their stuff, and –'

'And the mask store,' Ray cut in. Geoff let out an amused sigh.

'Yeah, okay, and the mask store.'

'Sweet,' Ray said. Convinced their conversation was concluded at the grand finale that was verification they were visiting the mask store, Ray walked around the car and got into the passenger seat. It was good enough for Geoff, who himself got into the car too. Gavin opened the door to the seat behind Geoff, which was where Michael had been sitting on the way there, but since Michael was the new kid on the block, he guessed that it was going to have to be him who had to walk  _around_ the car and make the effort to actually get in.

'Didn't wanna walk the whole way around, huh?' he said off-handedly to Gavin as he put on his seatbelt.

'To be honest with you,' Gavin said, staring out of the window. 'I couldn't really be arsed.'

Michael said nothing more. This Gavin guy seemed alright. He seemed interesting, that's for sure, like he was super laid back about life, but at the same time he knew what he was about, and he knew that he could get his way if he wanted it. And he knew how to make people not question it.

Michael was more of a brute force sort of person. If he had a problem, he'd damn well say it. If someone was pissing him off, he wouldn't hesitate to put a gun to their chest. It was partly the reason why he'd got in so much mess with going to prison, leaving his old crew...

But it meant that, even though he knew that if he had to, he could handle Gavin, he was still slightly intimidated by him: because he enforced his power differently to how Michael did it. But despite that, he'd still come across as the easiest to get along with out of the entire crew so far. Geoff was just a switch with two settings: You-will-do-what-I-fucking-say-or-you'll-be-sorry, and smiley-smiley-you-want-alcohol?-I-got-alcohol, and he was constantly flipping between the two. Ryan had hardly spoken since Michael had met him, but he seemed like the sort of person you did not want to cross. He was the mastermind, and the power behind the power. Jack was a worrying one because he and Geoff seemed uncomfortably loyal to each other, like all you'd have to do is say one bad thing to one of them and the other would be on you before you'd even finished speaking. And then Ray was just... Forbidden territory.

At least Gavin had made jokes, even if they were all about Michael. So yeah, maybe he was a little bit intimidating, but he also seemed like he could be a lot of fun.

The drive to Ammu-Nation was about as long as the drive from Geoff's to Sub Urban. They'd gone to the one in Morningwood, since it was on the route from Vinewood to Vespucci. This time, only Gavin and Geoff went in, leaving Michael and Ray in the car, although Michael was pleased when Ray got out to go with Jack and Ryan up to Poisonbys to buy their heist clothes. Gavin and Geoff returned with body armour for Gavin to have under his hoodie [They didn't know if Simeon would have a gun or not, so it was best to be on the safe side], and a cheap-looking carbine rifle for Gavin to use as his distraction.

Next stop was Vespucci. Geoff seemed like he had no moral objection to driving across the beach and the board walk, but he didn't particularly want to draw attention to the crew when they were heisting later that day, so he parked in the car park by the pier.

They all got out and walked down the beach together, with Ray and Ryan in the lead, talking excitedly about masks [for some reason this was a source of great interest to them], followed by Jack and Geoff who were chatting casually like parents waiting to pick their children up from school, and Michael and Gavin at the end, who didn't say anything to each other. Instead, Gavin was staring back at the giant Ferris wheel on the pier. He nearly ended up walking into a sunglasses stand when they got to the mask shop because he wasn't looking where he was going, which made Michael burst out laughing. Gavin narrowed his eyes at him, but not maliciously.

'Ah man!' Ray said, picking up various masks from the stands. 'What about this one, Ryan?' He put up a mask to his face, which made Ryan laugh. The label fluttering from it read  _Black Bloody Hockey_ . Michael was sure that Ryan was about to give the affirmative, when Geoff interjected with, 'That mask is gross, dude. This isn't a murder thing. Be a bit more classy, would you?'

Ryan looked really annoyed by his comment, giving him a glare that was darker than Michael had seen Geoff give before. Ray just sighed and put the mask in his other hand up to his face instead.

'How about  _ Metal Warrior _ ?' he said. Ryan seemed to like that one, but clearly not as much as the last one. When Geoff went to pay, he asked, 'You not getting one, Ryan?'

'I've  _ got  _ a mask, Geoff. I don't need one.'

'Oh, you wearing that one?'

Ryan looked at Geoff like he was urging him to remember something. 'Well... Yeah? When do I not?'

Jack let out a laugh. 'It's true,' he said. 'You lunatic.'

'Hey now,' Ryan said, pretending to be offended, but looking actually quite pleased with himself.

They all made their way back to the cars, this time Gavin actually looking where he was going. Next stop was Geoff's apartment.

When they got back, Geoff made sure that they all knew their part of the plans: what they were going to do, what direction they were headed when they escaped in their cars, and also where the nearest Los Santos Customs was to their escape location. Once everyone seemed sure of themselves, they all went off to get ready. Ray and Ryan actually left to get changed, but when Geoff saw Michael's look of suspicion, he told him that they all had apartments in the same building, and that Ryan and Ray were going to their respective ones to get ready.

Gavin went round the corner of the living area to get changed, either unaware or uncaring that the window right in front of him could see the entirety of Los Santos, and all of Los Santos could see him. Jack went downstairs to get changed, and tagged Michael to do the same when he came back. When Michael was down there he realised that this was Geoff's bedroom: a vast, perfect room with a King sized bed and a bath at the foot of it. The TV that hung on the wall opposite it was even bigger than the one upstairs.

Michael moved through the walk-in wardrobe, and into the en-suite. The shower was as big as a room, and the bath in the sunken corner had holes where jets of water could come out and give you a Jacuzzi experience. One entire wall was made of mirrors, which made Michael feel a bit weird, since he didn't make the habit of watching himself get changed most mornings.

Once he was done and in his ridiculous heist attire, he went back up to meet the others. Geoff had gotten changed when Michael had been down there, and Ryan and Ray were back. Or, at least, he thought that was Ryan with Ray – he couldn't actually see for the skull mask that was covering his entire head. Remembering that back at Vespucci he'd said 'when do I not wear it?', Michael could suddenly empathise with Jack's comment that Ryan was a 'lunatic'.

He dumped his things on the sofa, and came back up to the others.

'You ready?' Geoff said with a grin, looking around at the others. No one said anything, but that seemed to be the universal answer for 'yes'.

They all headed out to the garage, where they divided up into pairs: Geoff was with Michael, Jack with Gavin, and Ryan with Ray. The other two teams sped off ahead of Michael and Geoff, whose destination was the car park of the dealership, whereas the others had specified alleys they were going to park in.

When they parked up, Geoff asked Michael if he was ready. Satisfied with Michael's determined nod, Geoff grinned and got out of the car, Michael in his wake.

'Alright, whichever car I start talking to him about, that's the one we're taking,' Geoff said quickly before they entered through the back door of the place. The front was all opened up where it looked like there would be giant glass windows in the winter. A few cars sat in the room, all with giant prices written on cardboard and placed inside the windshield.

'Hello, hello!' came a thick Armenian accent, and a man – Simeon, Michael assumed – came out of a small office at the side of the room. His arms were held out like he was embracing an old friend. 'What can I do for you?'

'This Grotti,' Geoff said, gesturing to the Grotti Caronizzare next to them. 'How much is it?'

'That there is $180000' Simeon said proudly. 'The best deal you can get in all of Los Santos!'

'Huh. What about outside of Los Santos?' Geoff was looking in the driver's side of the car.

Simeon laughed awkwardly.

'I'm just messing with you, I –'

'GET DOWN, GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR!'

Geoff and Michael looked over to see a man come running in through the front of the showroom in a dark green hoodie and purple shorts, Aviators over his eyes and a carbine rifle aimed carelessly at Simeon. Gavin had entered the building.

Simeon was whimpering, while at the same time saying things like, 'Don't – don't hurt me!' and 'No! I didn't do anything!' His hands were above his head shaking as he clambered down onto his knees.

Geoff and Michael wasted no time watching, as they smashed into the Caronizzare. Gavin was shooting the gun, but aiming specifically a few metres to either the left or right of Simeon: his intention wasn't to kill him – just to provide enough distraction noise, and enough time for Geoff and Michael to get out of there.

Once the car was hotwired, Geoff slammed onto the accelerator and, pulling the price board away from the window, drove straight out of the front of the showroom, past Gavin, with Michael yelling, 'Let's go! Lets' go!' as they sped away.

They didn't even stick around long enough to see Ryan and Ray sneak in the room from the back, wielding baseball bats that they'd had stashed in their car. As if it had been rehearsed before, they began to each start smashing down CCTV cameras from the ceiling with their bats. While they were doing this, Jack ran in and took a car for himself. He was in and out in a heartbeat. It was swift – exactly how Geoff had wanted it to be.

Gavin kept the bullets and the yelling coming while Ryan and Ray finished their job and hopped in the last car left in the room: a black Emperor Habanero. Once they had reversed out of the back of the shop, Gavin stood up straight, ignoring Simeon who was now a crying, begging mess on the floor of his deserted shop. Gavin came to the pavement, waiting for Ryan and Ray to loop round and pick him up.

'Hey! Come here!' Gavin yelled as the car came into view, but instead of stopping to let him in, he saw Ray lean out the passenger window and throw out a flare towards Gavin, and then the car tear up the road, roaring away from the scene.

'Fuck,' Gavin whispered to himself in disbelief. 'FUCK!' he yelled this time, kicking his rifle into the wall so hard that it bent. This was not part of the plan. And now that flare had gone off, the police would be alerted, and Gavin was gonna get caught. He was fucked. Ray and Ryan had  _fucked_ him.

 He could hear sirens wailing faintly in the distance, but they weren't going to sound so faint if he stayed where he was. Simeon was stirring on the floor. Gavin ran for it.

Out the back of the showroom, and over the wall, he found himself running down an alley somewhere. He didn't even have enough time to process his anger, or betrayal, or anything that was flooding through him right now. He just ditched his rifle as quickly as he could, and kept running down the interconnected alleys of LS, hoping that the sound of the police would continue to sound further and further away as he ran.

–

Even if Michael knew the city as well as he knew Liberty, he wouldn't be able to tell where they were, Geoff was driving that fast. Swerving in and out of traffic, whether or not he was on the right side of the road. There were a few times that Michael honestly thought he might throw up due to the sudden turns and movements Geoff would force the car to perform.

All he could see was the world rushing and blurring and disappearing past him, and that meant it was very obvious when he saw something oppose all of that – something moving alongside the car. He forced himself to turn to his right to see what it was out his window, and his first instinct when he saw the giant four by four levelling up to them was that they'd been caught.

It only took him a couple of seconds to realise that it was Ryan driving the car, his dodging and swerving skills on the same level as Geoff's, if not better.

'Wait a second,' Michael said to himself, although Geoff's eyes flicked over to him for a heartbeat, wondering what it was. 'They're not supposed to come this way –'

What began as confused ended as a sudden feeling of dread for Michael, as he saw the back window of the four by four roll down and Ray lean out of it. It was hard to focus on him since the cars kept moving away, and then back towards each other, their choreography perfectly rehearsed, and their music the fleeting sounds of angry drivers going the opposite way past them. But Michael forced himself to look properly, and his fears were confirmed when he saw Ray holding a gun out the window, pointed directly at Michael.

He suddenly realised how good a marksman Ray must be, if Ryan was trusting him to shoot Michael from a vehicle moving so haphazardly across a highway. Or maybe Ryan didn't know?

'Geoff, Ray's got a...'

'Ray's got a what?' Geoff demanded, visibly annoyed that Michael had interrupted him as he was trying to concentrate on the road.

'Geoff, take a left!'

'What!?'

'TAKE A LE–'

A bullet pierced Michael's window, causing a spiderweb of cracks to emerge from the hole. It missed Michael, and the collision with the glass caused the bullet to slow down enough that it fell into one of the cup holders between Michael and Geoff.

'What the  _fuck_ was that?' Geoff screamed, still trying to concentrate on the road. 'Was it cops?'

'No, that was Ray! Geoff, turn now, turn now!'

Another bullet came straight for Michael, but by the time he'd grabbed the wheel off of Geoff and forced the car to take a left off of the road, it hit the side of the car instead of Michael's face. Michael turned just in time to see Ray and Ryan's car continue dodging its way up the highway without making any attempt to turn around and pursue Geoff and Michael.

Michael threw his head back against the headrest, his eyes wide with horror. He'd been in gang fights before, but he'd never been targeted himself, and had especially never had anyone in his own crew turn on him. He was breathing heavily when Geoff turned down an alleyway off the road somewhere. When they stopped, and Michael looked over, Geoff looked mad. Like, really, seriously furious.

'Are you okay?' he said in a calm voice to Michael, ignoring the damage of the car behind him, ignoring the anger that was exploding inside of him.

Michael couldn't even get words out. He couldn't find words in the first place to describe how he was – mostly because he didn't even know himself. Was he okay?

He just gave a shaken nod, his eyes driving into Geoff's.

Geoff sighed, and undid his seatbelt. Michael didn't know what was going on, and was unsure whether he should copy.

'You take this car,' Geoff said. 'I'll go steal some other one to get home. You need to go home. I'm sorry man, I don't know... Attacking you wasn't a part of the plan.'

Geoff looked ashamed, like never in his life had a plan gone so badly wrong. As he was getting out of the car, Michael raised his voice to say, 'There's something I just realised...'

'What?' Geoff leant down so he could make eye contact with Michael. 'What is it?'

Michael looked like he was in thought before he decided to actually speak. 'Gavin... Wasn't in the car with Ray and Ryan. They were on their own.'

Geoff bit his lip, and his face became solid and determined. 'You need to go home.' His voice sounded more urgent than it had before. 'Go to LS Customs, get the car resprayed and the bullet holes repaired. I'll get a replacement set of license plates delivered to you this evening. Go, now.'

He waited until Michael clambered over the gear stick and handbrake and settled into the driver's seat until he stepped away from the car to let it leave. Michael suddenly thought of how he'd admired Geoff's apartment, and suddenly felt more grateful that he didn't live in one of them, and that his home was comfortably away from Ryan and Ray. He put his foot down, and made to get out of there as fast as he possibly could.

 


	4. One of the Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets a surprise when his license plates get delivered, and along with what Geoff has in store for him... Thing could not be going worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy so things are moving on, we're seeing what's happening in Michael's story. Really glad to hear you guys enjoying it. It can only go up from here. Well, sort of.

Michael hadn't given it much thought to how Geoff was having this license plate delivered to him that evening, but if he had been given a thousand guesses, not one of them would have been that Ryan would show up at his door.

'Uhh...' was Michael's reaction when he found himself standing face to face with Ryan. He would have been nervous could he not see the license plates tucked under Ryan's arm.

'Geoff asked me to bring these over,' Ryan said, gesturing towards the plates. He raised his eyebrows. Unless he was doing very well to hide some hatred of Michael, it was as if Ryan had totally forgotten about the incident from earlier. In fact, nothing about him suggested that he'd been in any kind of situation at all that day. He was still in the same clothes, the same leather jacket and jeans, the same crew boots, but this time without the mask. Michael could see smears of paint across Ryan's face, like it had been washed away with sweat, the remnants of black pigment still darkening his eyes. His hair was messy and unkempt. He looked aloof, but not suspicious.

Michael narrowed his eyes at Ryan. He didn't know how he'd gotten back, or when. He wondered what was the state of his and Ray's car, and if Geoff had spoken to them about what had happened. Clearly, Geoff and Ryan had had correspondence since Michael had come home earlier.

His car was sitting in his garage. He'd had the entire thing chromed, and it was looking very shiny and new. Michael wasn't sure if he wanted Ryan in his garage just yet. Letting someone who was happy with aiding in his murder with him in a confined area and next to an expensive car? Didn't sound too appealing.

At the same time, though, he couldn't leave Ryan waiting on the doorstep forever.

'Do you want a drink?' Michael said, as he walked through into his kitchen, letting Ryan follow him into the house. He pulled two beers out of the fridge, and placed them both on his breakfast bar, already wrenching one open with a worn-out bottle-opener when Ryan came through into the room.

'No, I don't actually drink,' Ryan said politely. He put the plates down on the bar next to Michael's beers, and looked around the kitchen.

If the word 'average' could be transformed into a house, Michael's would be it. The cupboards in the kitchen were made of wood painted over lazily with a satin white paint. The worktop was a plastic designed to look like marble. The grey linoleum bordered a thick green carpet where the kitchen became the living room, and there was a single two-seated sofa facing a chunky, 30-inch TV. In the far corner was a small wooden table with seats for two, and next to the sofa was a door which led to the rest of the house, which was really just a bathroom, Michael's room, and a second bedroom so small that it was fit for maybe a foetus – and that was at a push.

'So do you, uh, actually want me to put these plates on your car or not?' Ryan said as his eyes moved back to Michael as he sipped his beer.

Michael considered the offer. It was a good question. Did he? He could feel Ryan watching him. It didn't feel judgemental, but Michael could sense that he wanted an answer.

'Uh, yeah, okay. Thanks, Ryan.'

Ryan scooped up the plates and Michael showed him to the door that led straight into the garage. His chromed Grotti glowed under the strip lighting. Michael secretly hoped that Ryan would like how he'd had the car done up, because he was really proud of it. If Ryan did, though, Michael couldn't tell from his expression.

'Geoff let you keep the car, then?' Ryan said, scooping up a screwdriver from the side and kneeling down in front of the car to take off the plate that was already on there.

'Yeah,' Michael said. He hadn't known whether he was expected to hang around or if he could go back inside, but since Ryan had decided now was a time for a conversation, he supposed he had to stay. 'I think he felt bad.'

'For what?' Ryan said, confusion in his voice.

Michael felt his heart sink. He meant he thought Geoff had felt bad because of how Ryan and Ray had betrayed them. He said nothing in a hope that Ryan would leave it.

'You know,' Ryan continued. 'I didn't know that Ray was gonna try and shoot you. That's why I didn't follow you when you took the turn off the road. We only went that route in the first place because Ray said so, and I was acting on reflex, pretty much.' There was a slight laughter in his voice, by which Michael couldn't help being slightly annoyed: this wasn't an amusing slip up. Ray had tried to kill him.

'So why did Ray do that?' Michael asked bluntly. He had an idea, but he wanted to see what Ryan thought.

'Psssh, uh... I think it's probably something like Ray thought Geoff wanted you out of the picture. Probably just some assumption like that, I don't know.'

The first plate was on the front of the car. Ryan tossed the old one to the side, and walked around to the back of the car to get to work on that one.

Michael wasn't wholly satisfied with Ryan's answer, but moved on anyway. There was something else he wanted to ask him.

'So why wasn't Gavin in your car?'

Ryan froze for a second, before continuing with what he was doing. The laughter was gone from his voice this time.

'Gavin is...' He paused for a second before continuing. 'Gavin's not that much of a use to the crew. He's... I don't know what the right words would be... He's clumsy, and unnecessarily arrogant, and he's  _difficult_ . He either challenges the heist plan, or he acts like he never heard it in the first place. He serves no real benefit to us.'

He pulled off the old plate that he'd just unscrewed, and started placing the new one on.

'Having him in on a plan increases our risk of being caught by, I don't even know. A lot. Getting someone to take the blame is the perfect way to not get blamed yourself. So by throwing Gavin under the bus, we don't get the blame, Gavin gets deported immediately, and he doesn't get the chance to tell the LSPD that it was actually us. It's a win-win for everyone involved, to be honest.'

'Except Gavin,' said Michael coldly.

Ryan looked slightly agitated as he looked up at Michael, forcefully running his left hand through his hair. 'Nah – fuck Gavin, alright? Who gives a fuck how it affects him? You only get job security if you can actually do the fucking job right.' He turned back to what he was doing. Michael sensed it was partly so that he could calm himself back down.

He didn't agree with what Ryan was saying, and, to be honest, Gavin seemed the nicest out of all of them. Maybe he was a shitty person, and maybe he was an awful crew member, and maybe he genuinely didn't care about anything, but Michael didn't know him well enough to call that, and from his own experience, Gavin had been nice. Which was way more than he could say about Ryan, who had driven up beside Michael while a man hung out of his vehicle, pointing a gun directly at Michael's face.

But he didn't push it. Michael had done their favour now. He didn't have to be involved at all any more, and getting in an argument with Ryan was just more likely to pull him back in.

When he was done, Ryan got up and came towards Michael. He couldn't tell if it was an intimidation technique, but if it was, it was working: if Ryan were to request something of Michael right now, chances are Michael would accept. On the literal basis that he didn't want Ryan to knock him out right now.

'By the way,' Ryan said, although Michael could sense a self-gratified sneer in his voice. 'Geoff liked you today.'

'Oh, well, tell him I say thanks,' said Michael, eager for Ryan to leave his house now.

'Why don't you tell him yourself?' Ryan's voice was back to being laid-back and friendly. When he saw Michael's confused expression, he added, 'He wants to invite you into the crew. You should go to Geoff's some time tomorrow so he can explain how the, ah, initiation works.'

The blood drained from Michael's face. He'd tried to be good yesterday so he didn't get on their bad side. He didn't realise that trying too hard was going to get him an invitation into the crew. That was the last thing he had wanted – he literally just wanted to kick off a solo career in crime. No flashy heists. No big busts. Just him on his own, without the risk of getting under anyone else's feet, or behind any more needless triggers.

Ryan raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

'A-alright,' Michael stammered. He couldn't believe what he was saying, but it was already out now. 'I'll be there tomorrow.'

Clearly satisfied, Ryan let Michael lead him back out to the front of the house and let him out to go home. They exchanged goodnights, and Michael was honestly pleased to see Ryan disappear behind the front door. He felt a little nauseous in his stomach, and could probably do with a lie down.

He wanted to believe that after his night's sleep he'd feel somewhat refreshed, but of course that wasn't actually the case. Michael had chosen to sleep that night in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and as much as he wished he could free himself of the burden of having to get changed, he didn't think Geoff would much appreciate it if he turned up at his posh apartment in the slobbiest clothes known to man.

Ryan hadn't given Michael a specific time to show up, so Michael didn't make any effort to rush there. By late afternoon, he was showered, had eaten, and was in a new-ish [code for not been worn in eight months] pair of jeans, a button-up shirt, and was ready to make his way over.

He'd almost forgotten about his new Grotti. It make Michael perk up a little bit at the idea of going to Geoff's. Before, he'd only made his way in shitty cars. This time, he'd look like someone who knows what they're about. Someone to respect.

This time Michael couldn't be late, but he didn't want to push it. Not knowing how to access Geoff's garage from the outside, he parked his car in front of it, since he knew that it wasn't going to be in use at all. A part of him didn't want to leave it. Michael knew that if this were someone else's car, he'd know exactly how to steal it, so how could he guarantee someone else wouldn't do the same to his car?

But he couldn't exactly stay on the pavement all day, deliberating over his choice of parking space. He'd have to leave it there, it's not like there was a better alternative anyway.

Having been to Geoff's apartment a number of times at this point, Michael was confident in navigating himself through the building right up to Geoff's door, where he confidently pressed the buzzer, alerting Geoff he was there. As much as Michael hadn't wanted to be involved with these guys, as much as this was most likely going to end a mess, in that moment, Michael felt cool, and he felt proud.

It didn't take Geoff long to answer his door, and when he did, he ushered Michael in happily. It was the first time Michael had been here alone. Obviously he'd seen Ryan that morning, but he didn't really know where any of the others were. He didn't even know whether Gavin was okay.

'Ryan fit the plates okay?' Geoff chirruped as he poured himself some Jack Daniels. Michael was a bit dazed. Honestly, he still didn't really understand why Geoff had sent Ryan of all people. Maybe it was because he wanted Michael and Ryan to get used to having each other around, since Geoff was now planning on hiring him.

'Uh, yeah, they seem fine.' Michael used the vaguest wording he could think of, which convinced Geoff that small talk about Ryan wasn't really going to work.

Geoff looked like he was about to move on to the next topic, but just as he was replacing the lid onto the bottle of Jack, his phone started buzzing happily on the side. He looked over at it briefly, before waving it off and turning his attention back over to Michael. 'Probably just Gavin,' he said, when Michael gave him an inquisitive look.

Michael felt some kind of a relief. It was good to know that Gavin was still, well, alive.

'But I don't wanna talk about Gavin,' Geoff waved his phone off. 'We're here to talk about you.' His voice went slightly more serious, and he lowered his glass from his lips. 'About your initiation.'

Michael took in a deep breath, bracing himself. Knowing what he knew about Geoff, he didn't think it would be easy. He'd been through many initiations before. Hell, he'd even come up with a few of his own. Usually they involved taking out a target, or stealing some drugs, or tagging someone for another member of the crew. But something told him that Geoff's initiation wasn't going to be so simple.

'See, we have a heist the beginning of next week. Had it planned for months, but it's five-man only. We can't really change that, whether we want to or not. But it's been in the works for so long, we're gonna do it. But after that, we'll be in hiding for a bit, right? You know how it is, whatever –' he waved his hand and took a sip of his drink, knowing that he didn't have to bore Michael with the details, since he wasn't exactly an amateur. 'So I'm gonna give you a month. That should cover it.'

After a couple of seconds of silence, Michael realised that it was his turn to talk. 'A month? ...To do what?'

'One word. Heist.'

Michael cocked his head slightly, but didn't take his eyes away from Geoff.

'You plan, you prepare, you  _design_ a heist for the six of us to do. It has to be smart, and it has to have a decent take. You've gotta make us want you, okay? So we go off and do this one we've had planned for, like, a million years. We go incognito for a while, and when we come back, we jump straight into what you got for us, okay? That's the initiation.'

Geoff leant back and took another sip from his drink. It was a classy move, like he'd had this meeting all planned out to look perfect. Well, Michael thought, it had worked.

'Oh, wait – or I'm gonna forget...' Geoff hurried into the living area of his apartment before coming back with a bag. He handed the bag to Michael. 'For the heist. Gotta fit in with the others. And I guess you should take this, too.' He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. On it was a list of five numbers in very messy handwriting. 'You burn that paper as soon as you've saved those. And if the popo ever come a-knockin', delete them immediately.'

There was a silent moment of shared eye contact, before Geoff turned back to his drink on the kitchen counter, finished it off, and escorted Michael to the door.

Outside, Michael couldn't help but feel like he'd absorbed that information at a million miles an hour, and couldn't remember anything that Geoff had just said. Instead of trying to re-process it all, he decided to see what exactly it was Geoff had handed him in that bag.

He opened the bag slowly, and couldn't help but let out an exasperated, 'Oh man,' when he saw was what inside. Michael reached in, and pulled them out: a brand new pair of shiny, Fake AH Crew boots.

 


	5. Romantic Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's really hard to see what good could come out of a shit situation, and then the unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing..

When Michael got home, he felt as if he hadn't really left. He'd been at Geoff's ten minutes – tops – but that didn't stop him from feeling that he seriously needed a drink right now. Maybe it was Ryan's visit this morning, maybe it was the knowledge that he had to come up with an entire successful heist in one month; he didn't know, but what he did know was that he needed alcohol in his system. Now.

He put his new boots down on the table. Looking at them gave Michael a lot of mixed feelings: they'd certainly caught his eye when he'd seen them on the crew members the first time he'd met them, but now a pair was in his possession, he wasn't sure they were quite as desirable. Especially now there was so much resting on it. He suddenly felt too aware of his feet nesting comfortably in his trusty old trainers he was currently wearing.

'God fucking damn,' he hissed to himself when he went into his kitchen and opened the fridge to get out a beer for himself. Turned out there was no beer. Which meant he had to go out.

It wasn't such a hassle – he certainly didn't object to going out ever, but it would have suited him much better if he could have stayed in that evening and kept himself to himself. Sometimes you've just got to allow yourself to be an introvert for the night, and that's how Michael felt tonight.

But he wanted that drink way too much, so a swipe for his wallet later, and Michael was out of his house and on his way to a bar.

He was too tired to go exploring to find another bar, the one in which he found himself winding up was the one where he'd had his first encounter with Geoff and Ryan, just a few days before. It had the same muskiness, the same mixed aroma of alcohol and smoke. It seemed to have recovered from Geoff and Ryan's outbreak, like it had never happened. The same bartender was pulling pints lazily for customers.

Despite the fact that the sound of conversation covered a higher range of decibels than it had last time he was here, everything was much the same. Michael ordered himself a beer as a sort of pre-drink to the whiskey and vodka he'd probably be downing later on that night.

It was a peaceful evening. No one there to bother him, or stress him out. Just nice.

And then all of a sudden it got so much better. He'd heard the door of the bar open, and looked around half-heartedly to see what other scrawny East Los citizen was coming in. But this was no skinny, greasy, working-class dude. It was someone Michael didn't even believe could exist in a bar like this: she had long red hair which fell down just below her shoulders. Her top was strappy and black, and definitely looked like it had cost her a few dollars. Michael couldn't help but tell how... Flattering... It looked. She didn't look too dressed up though, as she was wearing jeans. Well, jeans which looked like you could buy a small car for the same price. They looked amazing on her. She looked like a goddess who'd just turned up to a landfill site.

He didn't want to stare. This lady was beautiful, but she wasn't there to make Michael feel better. She was probably there for a drink, to worry about her own problems. Besides, most of the guys in here had noticed her, and Michael didn't want her to feel smothered.

But then just as he was about to avert his attention back to his nearly-finished beer, she caught his eye. Only briefly, but she did. And there was totally a small smirk on her lips when she did.

Michael felt awkward about it, but also kind of happy. A bit like a schoolboy. Had she smirked at any of the other guys in there, all of whom were pretty much goggling her by now? No, he didn't think so. He tried to suppress the smile that was aching to reach his lips, an act which became much easier once he realised she was sitting two places down from him at the bar.

He finished his beer, and beckoned over the bartender. This time, his order was the most expensive whiskey they had. He'd had his baby drinks now, it was time to move onto what he'd come here for.

When the bartender went over the get it for him, Michael noticed the beautiful girl looking at him again, but this time it was a frown on her face – or maybe not a frown, more like she was trying to figure something out about him.

'Gesundheit,' Michael said, half to himself and half to the bartender, who was now walking away to serve someone else.

The girl really was frowning accusingly at him now. Michael put his glass down and looked over, waiting for her to say what the problem was.

'Gesundheit doesn't mean what you think it means,' she said. It took Michael a couple of seconds to process what she meant.

'Well,' he said with a forced cough of laughter. 'It does now, sister.'

She sighed, and called for the bartender to get her the same whiskey as Michael. Once he returned with it, she shuffled up the one barstool, so she was right next to Michael.

'No. What you mean is “Prost”.' She clinked her glass against the one that was in Michael's hand. 'Prost!'

'You speak German?' he said incredulously.

'No. Not really. I've had to for work, but no. I do speak Spanish, though.'

It was in that second that Michael realised this was no ordinary girl. Sure, lots of people spoke German and Spanish, and it meant shit. But with the expensive outfit, the effortless way of looking badass (she wasn't even wearing that much makeup. She looked _badass_ without makeup!), the knowledge of other languages for work... This girl knew what she was about. This wasn't some random East Los hooker whose clients spent a lot on her. This was a very successful woman.

'Spanish!' Michael spat with a laugh. He'd always been crap at languages.

'Yeah, Spanish. Like, _Hola, mi nombre es Lindsay_. _İ_ s _alud!_ ' She clinked her glass on Michael's again. All her gave her was a blank expression.

She raised her eyebrows. 'It means, “Hello, my name is Lindsay.” And then, “Cheers!” again. Like Prost?'

'Yeah, I didn't get that. But now you've said it in English, it's like you're speaking my language. I'm Michael.' He reached his left hand under his right (which was resting on the bar) awkwardly to shake hers. Luckily, she found this amusing. Because it looked really stupid.

'So,' Michael said, taking a sip of his whiskey and trying to sound casual. 'Where in Los Santos you living?'

'Would your opinion of me change if I lived in the Vinewood Hills or East Los?' Her expression was cocky.

Michael shrugged and took another sip of his whiskey. Quietly, into the glass, he said, 'I live in East Los.'

He thought for sure it would make her feel awkward. But it didn't. She sighed. 'Yeah, but, Michael... There's a difference between _choosing_ to live in East Los, and _having_ to live in East Los because you can't afford to live anywhere else.' She raised an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. 'I'm gonna judge, by your choice of very expensive whiskey, that you're the former.'

Michael smirked to himself. He couldn't help but be secretly proud that she knew he wasn't some cheap scoundrel. This Lindsay was smart. He liked her.

The topic wasn't pursued, however. Lindsay had taken to looking around the bar. 'You know, uh, this bar is really where crooks and shit come.'

There was a vibe that Lindsay was trying to lead on to something, but Michael just shrugged. He liked the anonymity. He liked the whiskey.

'Do you have any intention on maybe finding somewhere nicer we can hang out?' Lindsay's voice was full of hope, but she was pretty convinced Michael would say no. After all, this man had chosen to live in East Los, when he was clearly above that. Why the Hell would he choose to do something different when it came to bars?

'I think I fit in fine here,' Michael said.

Lindsay couldn't help a smug smile from appearing on her face. 'Aaaah, so you _are_ a criminal?'

Michael turned to her, his eyes narrow. He wasn't entirely sure what Lindsay was trying to get out of this conversation anymore. He could go off on one, demanding exactly what it was she wanted from him, but instead he just calmly said, 'It takes one to know one.'

'I've dabbled.' Lindsay shrugged happily and took another sip from her whiskey.

 _I've dabbled_. Yeah right, Michael thought. 'Dabbling' would be stealing a chocolate bar from a local shop when you were fifteen. Lindsay asked about crime. She was the one who knew this bar was one where crooks came. She was the one who'd brought up the topic. She was the one whose outfit's worth could feed a poor family for a week. She hadn't just 'dabbled' in crime. This woman knew her shit.

Michael trusted her.

'Alright,' he said. 'Well, I actually just moved here after spending eight months in prison up in LC.' The smile he gave her said, 'You've got what information you wanted out of me now. Well done.'

Lindsay itched to ask what he was in for, but that was taboo. It was one of those things: if the person in question doesn't tell you, you don't ask.

The night air was suddenly much colder by the time they left. They'd stayed at the bar for another couple of whiskeys. Both of them knew how to hold their liquor, so neither were drunk, just pleasantly intoxicated. They weren't the last to leave, either. It was always the lonely old men, ex-criminals or divorcees, for whom drinking their memories away was the only comfort in life. You could always see them stumbling away from the bar in the mornings.

Michael's place was about a half-hour walk from the bar. He was glad that he'd chosen to wear his button-up shirt to Geoff's earlier, rather than stick to the t-shirt he'd slept in, especially when he looked at Lindsay, who was holding her arms together to try and reduce the effects of the cold on her bare skin.

'You gonna come in?' Michael said with laughter in his voice when they reached his house. He thought Lindsay might appreciate being in the warm after that treacherous walk. She examined his house from where she was standing. No doubt hers was way more impressive, Michael thought. If anything good came of having his small house, it was that it didn't look like he was over-compensating.

'I think I'm just gonna get a taxi home,' Lindsay said. 'Thanks, though.'

'Alright, cool.' Michael couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that Lindsay wasn't going to stay. 'I'll call one now. You want me to wait out here with you? You sure you don't wanna come in?'

'No, it's cool. I'll call it.' Before Michael could beat her to it, Lindsay was already on her phone, talking to Downtown Cab & Co. She was a few metres away, so Michael couldn't actually hear the conversation they were having. All he could see was Lindsay lazily kicking grit off of the pavement as she spoke to whomever was on the end of the phone.

'All sorted?'

'Yeah, it'll be quick, since the depo is, like, just over there.'

'You want any money to go towards it?'

Lindsay laughed. 'Don't be stupid. It was nice enough meeting you today, I'm not gonna start gold-digging for taxi fares.'

There was a moment of silence before Lindsay spoke again. 'I will take one thing from you, though.'

'Uh... Are you about to steal my car, or something?' Michael said playfully.

'No, dumbass. Just – give me your phone a sec.'

'You want this piece of crap?' As he pulled it out, Lindsay burst out laughing. Michael's iFruit was very smashed up.

'No, moron,' Lindsay laughed. 'I'm gonna put my number in it!'

'OH!' It finally clicked. 'Well, that's much more desirable.'

Just as Lindsay finished adding in her contact details to Michael's phone, the taxi pulled up. The two shared a brief, friendly hug, before Lindsay got in the back of the taxi, and it pulled away. Despite the cold, Michael couldn't help but feel really warm right now. Warm, and happy. It had been the best night since he'd been out of prison. For once, it hadn't gone wrong. No pursuing maniacal criminals, no accidentally becoming the sixth member of a crew, no nothing. Just nice drinks with a _very_ nice girl. Michael was happy.

He went back into his house with a smile on his face, the fact he had a month to plan a heist not even crossing his mind.

 

Over the next few days, Michael's happy buzz slowly wore off. He decided that procrastinating was going to get him no where but in the shit, so he wanted to start work on his plan early. That way, he had more time to tweak any details, should he have to.

Back in Liberty City, he'd never really been the heist planner. He'd done a couple of small ones before, but they were usually, 'You have a day to put together a quick job that will get us a couple of bucks.' They were spontaneous and small-scale. Never once had he been asked to design a full-on heist.

It wasn't even as easy as Michael had hoped. There was only so many things you could do, only so many places you could rob. But including everyone equally and stitching the ideas together was so much harder. _It would be great if Geoff could do this, but then I'd want him with Ryan for this. Ray would be awesome at this job, but how could I also have him working with Jack on this thing?_ It was tiring, and with every day that went by which didn't produce any results, Michael gradually began to lose faith in himself.

He wanted to make something impressive. Well, that was part of the rules. But he didn't want to put in the minimal amount of effort. He wanted to go big. At the same time, he didn't want to be in above his head. It was one thing to risk police interception, it was another to walk a tightrope over thin ice.

Maybe they could rob a bank? That would give a big take. But then, Michael had never set foot in a bank here. He didn't really know which banks were which. How about something at the airport? No, too risky. They could steal a yacht from some rich dude in the Rockford Hills? Wait, no. That was ridiculous.

It was getting really too much. Michael just ended up with his head on the table and his fingers pulling at his hair. He was surprised how well he was controlling his temper. Usually, there'd be papers flying everywhere, maybe even his table would be broken by now. But one of his resolutions since coming to Los Santos had been to be calmer, and he intended to stick to it.

It got to the point where it was only early morning before Michael decided he was too stressed to continue. Almost as if it had been planned, when he finally decided that he was going to give up, his phone rang. He didn't bother looking at the caller ID before slapping the cracked iFruit to the side of his face.

'Ugh, hello?' he said. His voice was thick with exhaustion and stress.

'Hey, Michael?' Michael felt his ears suddenly prick, and perked up immediately: it was Lindsay.

'Hey... Hey, Lindsay!' He made his best effort to not sound half asleep. It sucked.

'Uh, hey. So, anyway, I'm gonna be in East Los later today, was wondering if you wanted to meet up?'

Michael couldn't believe his luck. Not even just because it was Lindsay, but because it gave him an excuse to not pour over useless heist plans, and think up more failed ideas.

'Absolutely I'll come meet you. What sort of time?'

'Give me a couple of hours. We can meet outside the bar if you like?'

'Yeah, yeah, sure!' Michael agreed, before he even realised that he'd much prefer to meet nearer his house. Ah well, maybe being away from his house will do him good for an afternoon.

'Okay, see you then.' The line clicked off, and Michael put his phone down beside him. A couple of hours, hm? He still had time to try and get some work done before he had to leave. But no one needed to know that, did they? He could totally spend two hours getting ready to _not_ look like shit!

As much as he'd have loved to believe that it had, it didn't actually take Michael two hours to get ready. He did spend nearly half an hour in the shower, partly because he was singing to himself so loudly, and partly because he kept washing and re-washing his hair. He selected for himself a black fitted t-shirt and his nicest pair of jeans. He sprayed himself with aftershave, which was beginning to go a bit stale after sitting in his room for eight months while he'd been in prison. His watch, least-shabby shoes, and a beanie to top it all off.

This time, he wasn't going to walk to the bar. He'd drive. That way he could spend some quality time with his new Grotti as well.

When he pulled up at the bar, Lindsay was waiting there already. There wasn't a car around, so she clearly hadn't driven. Maybe she didn't drive... Maybe she got around in taxis all the time.

She looked distinctly more formal than she had when they'd first met. She was wearing black skinny jeans, with black boots that came up her calves. But instead of the strappy top she'd rocked the other day, she was in a pale blue blouse-shirt thing, a black blazer over the top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her red hair was up, and she was wearing more makeup than last time.

'Hey!' Michael said happily but casually. Lindsay gave him a genuine smile, saying, 'Hey.' herself.

'So, what you doing in East Los?' Michael asked. He still didn't actually know if this was where she lived or not, but he'd sort of come to his own conclusion that she was way above the ruins of East Los Santos.

'Business stuff,' Lindsay replied bluntly. She didn't sound like she wanted to discuss it, and Michael just wanted to enjoy her company without thinking about his own work either. Lindsay looked relieved when Michael brushed past the topic and asked what she wanted to do.

'Uhm, I don't know really. Maybe just go for a walk or something? Just chill, I guess.' She gave a shrug which suggested she was going to let Michael choose. He couldn't help but feel a little useless, because he still didn't know the area that well. He knew where his house was, and he knew where the bar was. East Los didn't exactly have a vibe that made him itch to explore it.

'Uh, okay, let's just...' Michael had a quick look down the roads which he could take. 'Go that way, I guess?' He pointed forwards, which was behind Lindsay. The road didn't look that interesting. There was a layby at some point down it where there were a couple of shops. Not exactly Great Day Out material, but the alternatives didn't have much to offer either.

They began on their way, talking but not revealing too much. Lindsay could still be an aristocratic millionaire or a homeless girl who scams passer-bys, but Michael wouldn't be able to tell from anything she'd told him.

When they reached the layby, neither of them could resist going into the off-license that was there. It was a bit early for drinking, but – well, okay, it was never too early for them. The shop smelled like a flavoursome mixture of stale alcohol and piss, but it had a decent enough selection. The two decided that now wasn't Whiskey O'Clock, and instead opted for a high-end bottle of vodka.

The guy at the counter seemed disinterested in either of them. Michael couldn't understand why he wasn't as shocked at Lindsay's beauty as Michael had been when he'd first seen her. Even if girls weren't this dude's cup of tea, you couldn't just stand there and be unphased at her presence. Lindsay, on the other hand, was just grateful that he wasn't some guy making inappropriate remarks. It was refreshing.

Michael hardly even noticed when the cashier had handed the alcohol back to Lindsay. After his internal debate about the cashier, something on the counter had caught his eye. There were a bunch of newspaper clippings taped messily to the yellowing surface. Some of them looked so old and tattered that the people in the photos probably looked much different today. But it wasn't the collage of fading Wanted posters ripped from ancient newspapers that had caught Michael's attention; it was a new, larger, fresher one that had been stuck over the top of them.

This one was also directly cut from a newspaper, but the paper on which it was printed was bright, intact, and the ink was rich black and not fading. This clipping was from today.

' _Crew Crook Caged_ ,' Michael said to himself, reading off the headline of the clipping. He'd totally forgotten that Lindsay was standing next to him, and that they were supposed to be leaving with their vodka to continue on their walk. He tried to keep an impartial expression when he looked down at the man in the photo and saw the face of Jack Pattillo staring back up at him.

He felt a nudge on his shoulder. Lindsay had shoved him gently to see what he was looking at. When her eyes met the article Michael was reading, her face lit up a little.

'Hey, what? I know that guy,' she said, thinking nothing of it. Michael's head turned sharply to her, surprised at her off-hand comment.

'You do?' He couldn't make it obvious that he knew Jack. His eyes briefly moved over the lines of text below Jack's mugshot before Lindsay spoke.

_Heist crew member from Los Santos, San Andreas has been caught on suspicion of vehicle theft. Believed to be part of a bigger job, the arrest was made at the scene and further questioning is set to go forward later today._

'Yeah, he went to my university. Not at the same time, but we'd been in the same societies, so his name and face were, y'know, around.' Michael's mind was put to rest, but Lindsay continued, 'But we ended up doing some business together, actually. I moved to Los Santos and he was already here, so we just ended up crossing paths for work at some point.'

This twinged at something inside Michael. If Lindsay had worked with Jack, there was no way she was in a white-collar, clean cut job. Whether or not she herself was a criminal, she worked with them. That was shady in itself.

The two took themselves outside, thanking the cashier. Michael was getting ready to suggest where they should go next, but Lindsay's mind was still on Jack.

'Sucks he got caught. I mean, I haven't seen him in years, but he knew his shit when it came to vehicles. I'd assume that if he was in a heist crew then he was for sure the getaway.'

Michael didn't really know how to respond. So Lindsay knew Jack. She'd worked with him. But she hadn't known any details of his job, or that he was even in a crew. Maybe she wasn't that shady at all, and just didn't know. But she seemed so nonchalant to it, if a little disappointed on Jack's behalf that he'd been arrested. There was no way she knew the other crew members. Michael was just being paranoid now.

The pair ended up sitting on the curb of a main road round the corner, passing the vodka to each other and having a spitting contest. Michael wasn't a bad spitter, but it definitely seemed Lindsay had been practising. The aim was to spit as far as you could, without it hitting any vehicles on the way.

They hadn't had much vodka by the time Lindsay's phone rang. Which turned out to be a good thing, as when she hung up, she said, 'Ugh I gotta go. Work.' She folded her phone away inside her blazer, but Michael was looking at her with a disappointed expression. It was barely brushing late afternoon at this point, he didn't want Lindsay to go already. She was the first actual friend he'd made since moving to Los Santos. What the hell else was he going to do for the rest of the day? Plan his heist? Ha. Ha ha. Ha.

They both clambered up from the ground, Lindsay brushing herself down so that she looked presentable enough to return to work.

'It was great to see you, Michael. We'll meet up soon, yeah? Hopefully when I'm not meant to be on business.'

'Yeah,' Michael said with an endearing smile. He was annoyed that Lindsay had to leave, but he wasn't going to be purposely negative about it to make her feel bad.

They gave each other an amiable kiss on the cheek, before Lindsay shoved the vodka bottle back in Michael's hand, and strode off down the street. Once he was sure she was out of hearing distance, Michael hurried to cap the bottle and pull out his phone. He fumbled as he scrolled through his contacts to find Geoff's number. Then, when he had, he dialled.

'Hello..?' Michael said unsurely. The line had gone through, but no one had spoken when it had. He'd been waiting for the distinct sound of Geoff's voice to penetrate his eardrums.

'Oh, Michael. It's you. I didn't say anything because you could have been anyone.' Geoff's voice was a little slow and downplayed. It didn't have the spark of life Michael knew it usually came with. He guessed Geoff had likely been drinking.

'Geoff, what the fuck is up with this Jack shit? Were you gonna tell me at all, or?' The alarm in Michael's voice contrasted with the sluggish tones in Geoff's.

'Relax. We _would_ have told you, but since we were the ones who gave _you_ our numbers... Also this only happened yesterday, when we were heisting. We don't know where the popo are right now, and for all we know they're watching us. Perhaps I should do a striptease to make their rewards more sweet.' The last line was a cheerier, offhand comment. But Geoff's voice went back to how it was, preceded by a sigh, when he said, 'But Jack _will_ be fine. He won't be in custody for long, since the police don't actually _have_ any proof. But the chances of him being out before your heist goes forward are very low.'

'Okay. So, heist for five then?'

'No. I'm gonna hire a freelancer. Some buddy of mine who's still in the pipework. This heist is like an initiation, like a test. It's very important you know how to plan a heist for six people.'

'Right. Okay then...' Michael went to turn off his phone, having got what he wanted from Geoff.

'Wait, Michael – before you hang up. I'm not kidding when I say the popes could be on us now. We're trying to lay low for a bit. Post-heist, you know the formalities. So you should refrain from contacting us, unless it's important.'

'Got it,' Michael said, and hung up. He took a deep breath in, and combed his hair with the same hand currently holding his vodka bottle. So the heist wasn't being made any easier, it just now had to include someone that Michael had never met in his life. Great.

He started forward, back to the bar, back to his Grotti, back to his house, where he'd inevitably start yet another failed attempt at planning a heist that so far seemed to have no light at the end of the tunnel, forever wishing he could rewind his life by a few hours and relive it.

 


	6. Nice Dynamite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't upload all weekend. I was doing stuff.

Planning didn't go so well once Michael got home. More like, he sat at his table for an hour, every ten minutes getting up to add mixer to a puddle of vodka in the bottom of a glass, and returning just to stare blankly at the pages in front of him. But vodka made Michael tired, and he ended up falling down onto his sofa at 7pm, welcoming sleep with open arms.

He would have loved to have slept on until midday the next day, but he was rudely awakened by his phone vibrating aggressively on his chest. He didn't even remember having his phone with him when he went to sleep. Was it Lindsay? As he clicked the screen to see who it was who'd texted him, he was surprised to see that it was only 10pm.

Michael sat up, although it certainly made him feel unbalanced. He wasn't drunk, he definitely wasn't _that_ lightweight, but he wasn't 100% sober either. Clicking through his phone, he found the text.

_Meet me at the Vanilla Unicorn?_

It wasn't Lindsay. It was... Gavin?

But, what the hell was Gavin doing texting him? At 10pm? The day after a heist? Especially as Geoff had specifically requested that Michael didn't contact any of them as they were supposed to be laying low. And yet Gavin wanted to meet Michael at a strip club? Michael was sure he'd spoken, like, a total of ten words to Gavin. Ever.

Even so, Michael rolled himself off the sofa, and after convincing himself that he was sober enough to drive, grabbed his keys. He pulled on the Fake AH Crew boots Geoff had given him, and sent Gavin a quick reply saying he'd be there, going out to get in his car.

Luckily, the Vanilla Unicorn was in Strawberry, an area of Los Santos just west of East Los, which meant Michael didn't have to drive far before reaching it. He could see Gavin waiting outside the door, aviators on despite the darkness. Michael couldn't help but think he looked stupid.

'Eyyy, Michael, boi!' Gavin said jovially as Michael got out of his car and approached him. He wasn't sure where his boundaries were with Gavin. His greeting seemed too friendly for how well they knew each other, but it wasn't like he had to make an effort to be formal with Gavin.

'Hey man, you – you good?' Michael did not appreciate the cold. He was grateful when Gavin pulled him inside the strip club before answering.

'Yeah, I'm good. Sit down, sit down, I'll get you a drink!' Michael felt confused about what this was about. Had Geoff set Gavin up to find out how the heist planning was going? Should Michael have made more of an effort? He could see Gavin pointing at the plethora of drinks available behind the bar before Michael realised he was asking him what he wanted. Usually, he'd go for a whiskey with a distinct flavour, something he could really enjoy. But after chugging down glass after glass of vodka and cokes back at home, his finely-tuned taste in alcohol didn't really care what he was having.

'I'll just get whatever you're getting,' he said tentatively. He still didn't know where this was going. But Gavin seemed none-the-wiser, and came back with two brightly coloured drinks. Oh God, Michael thought, it's going to be like I'm sixteen again.

Expecting a tacky alcopop flavour to fill his mouth, he was pleasantly surprised when he took a sip and tasted smooth coconut and pineapples flavours. Guess he wasn't too tipsy to appreciate it after all.

'What is this?' he said, watching as Gavin drank greedily from his, clearly enjoying it.

'Malibu cocktail. Love 'em. Love a nice cheeky Malibu.' He gave Michael a genuine smile before going back to drinking straight out of the glass (despite the little straw that had been provided with it). Michael raised his eyebrows, but put his drink down.

'Uh, Gav, no offense, but why did you ask me to come here?'

Gavin didn't look offended at all. Actually, he looked like he'd been completely expecting the question. 'It's where Geoff brought me here when I first joined the crew!' he said proudly. 'I just figured I'd continue the tradition and invite you along, too.'

Oh, so that was really it? Although, looking at the way Gavin was reeeaaallly enjoying his drink, suggested to Michael that the chances of him being up to any shady business seemed next to nothing.

'But,' Gavin added, hiccuping a little after drinking too quickly. 'Strip club would not have been my first choice.'

Michael looked behind him over to the stage, where women of various shapes, ages, and sizes were twisting themselves around the metal poles which extended to the ceiling, or grinding raunchily on the laps of eager-looking men in the booths. He'd forgotten they were even in a strip club until he'd looked round. The ravenous face shared by most of the clientèle made Michael feel a little sick, so he quickly turned back round to Gavin, who was just finishing off his glass.

A couple more drinks and scraps of small talk were shared before the conversation moved on to something a little more relevant.

'Michael, boi,' Gavin said, looking like he'd been preparing what he was about to say. Michael didn't know why he was suddenly Gavin's 'boi', but he found it amusing. He grunted, signalling Gavin to go on. 'What are you doing joining the crew? Like, why are you bothering?'

'Why, what's wrong with it?' Michael said. 'Aren't those guys your friends?'

Gavin let out a forced laugh, and then straightened up and suddenly looked at Michael very seriously. 'Michael. Look at me, and answer: Do you really think I like those guys?'

Michael's eyes diverted slightly. He felt very on the spot.

' _Especially_ ,' Gavin said, but suddenly realised he'd said it a it loudly. He lowered his voice a little. 'Especially after what Ray and Ryan did?'

'Oh, yeah. Right.' Michael looked sheepish. He wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like he was being given much choice about joining the crew at all. He felt like Gavin wanted him to agree to back out.

'I'm only part of the goddamn crew because I was caught smuggling drugs into the country. It was for some –' he waved his arm around, trying to think of a word. '– I don't know... Mobster dude, who had a direct link to Geoff. And Geoff, being Geoff, or just, well, yeah... He didn't want to get caught for his work, so he managed to get me out of it, God knows how the fuck... But he told me he had to join up as, like, payment. It was just Geoff, Jack and Ryan back then. And then I come along, this British dude just milling his way through. They thought I was a right tosser, fairly certain they grilled Geoff about it too.' He took a swig of his drink. 'You shouldn't get involved.'

Michael couldn't help an amused expression from crossing his face. 'Oh, okay, you say it like I haven't been a criminal since I left high school.'

'Wait – what? Really?' Gavin sounded genuinely surprised. So surprised, in fact, that Michael laughed out loud. 'Like how?'

'Well, uh...' Michael looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. Of course they weren't, everyone was more interested in the naked women. 'I was in prison for eight months before moving down here, to LS. Before that I was living in Liberty City, which is also where I was in prison –'

'Can't have been that bad, then. Eight months? Psssh.'

'What I was _caught_ for wasn't bad,' he mumbled to himself, but Gavin was in too much of an alcoholic happy bubble to pick up on it.

'You know,' Gavin started, completely ignorant to what Michael had said. 'Ray's from Liberty City. He moved down here, like, eight months ago.' Gavin laughed to himself. 'Yeah, he's not the president of your fan club.'

'No shit. You know he tried to kill me, right? Back when we were on the Dealership Heist? Yeah. Fucking leant out the car with the barrel of a gun pointed right at me.'

'Are – are you serious?' Gavin sounded horrified.

'Yeah?' Michael let out a sniff of amusement and took a sip from his drink.

Gavin knew his colleagues could be pieces of shit. Ray especially, who seemed to have a vengeance for anyone and everyone who didn't pose a bigger threat to him. But he didn't think Ray would actively try and kill any one of them – especially not during a job! That was just insane.

The conversation teetered off when a lady wearing nothing but a diamanté thong and nipple tassels came over and started forcing her breasts rather close to Gavin's face. Any of the other men in here would be drooling at the thought, but Gavin just looked inconvenienced, as he tried to contort his arm around the woman's bust to get to his drink.

It was an amusing sight, but Michael had to admit that he did prefer it when Gavin was bitching about the others to him. He subtly gestured for the stripper to leave, which she did without a hint of care in her eyes, and turned to Gavin. 'Where is it you'd rather go than here?' he said, remembering that Gavin wouldn't have picked this place as his first choice.

Recovering from his sudden ambush by a pair of breasts, Gavin stopped to think. Where _would_ he rather go? It took him a few moments to come up with his answer.

'The pier.'

'The – the pier?' Michael did a double take. He was expecting some fancy downtown bar, or somewhere a bit more upmarket. The pier was neither of those things, and especially at this time of night, the potheads at the pier would be putting away their joints in exchange for a fresh dose of ketamine.

'Yeah,' Gavin said, and was out the door before Michael could even begin to think why. Privately, he was grateful to be leaving the strip club though. He knew it was a bit stupid – he'd only known her for a few days of course – but he couldn't help but feel that his growing interest in Lindsay meant he shouldn't really be in a place that makes money off of naked women.

When he reached Gavin outside, it was only then that he realised that Gavin didn't actually have his own car. He had no idea how Gavin had got here, but he was needing a ride now.

'Is that why you were supposed to go with Ray and Ryan?' Michael said off-handedly, walking over to his own car.

'What?'

'You don't drive?' There was a smirk on Michael's face which Gavin very visibly resented. With a blunt 'Shut up', they both got in, and Michael drove them all the way to Vespucci Beach.

When they got out the car, the air tasted salty and stale, like the remnant of a good day out. Like when you're on holiday and you go in for the night, but you come out for a breath of fresh air and you can taste the memories from that day. Like a taste Michael would never fully hate because it was something he could never experience back in Liberty City. The lights on the Ferris wheel flashed and danced despite its lack of engaged audience. There was a buzz of noise from the surfers who'd stayed out late, to the stoners scattered in their groups up the sand, to the partygoers lit up by their campfires. The lights of the terrace which lined the beach were almost as bright as the pier itself.

'I really wanna go on the Ferris wheel,' Gavin said, staring up at it from afar. Michael gave him an indignant look.

'You're serious?'

Gavin relaxed his shoulders and gave Michael an expression one would give someone who was failing to understand a very simple explanation. 'It's just, in the entire year I've lived here... I haven't been on it. Ever.'

Michael let out a laugh. He literally had no other suggestions. Gavin gave a smile of true excitement, like he was glad Michael had let him go on the Ferris wheel. It was really weird behaviour. Not bad weird, necessarily, but Michael had expected tonight to be a set-up, but it seemed more like Gavin had been trying to find some way of escaping. From what Michael could tell, Gavin felt trapped in crew life, and maybe Michael was just the closest thing to being away from it for Gavin. Who knew? But it wasn't bothering Michael, so if it meant Gavin was having a stress-free night for once, he was only happy to oblige.

The pier seemed to have that mirage effect where everything looked so close but with every step it seemed just that bit out of reach. The Ferris wheel was right on the end of it, next to a small rollercoaster that Michael was sure could be broken by an overweight child.

Since the pier wasn't particularly busy this late, Gavin and Michael didn't even have to queue to get on the Ferris wheel, they were just able to hop right on. As the gondola ascended, Michael could feel his stomach churn; he was sure it was way too unstable to get them back alive. Living a life of crime, and the biggest threat to your life is a Ferris wheel. Nice.

Gavin was taking photos excitedly on his phone, and when Michael looked up he could see why. The view over the city was beautiful. He could literally see the entire scape of Los Santos, and it took his breath away imagining how much of what he was looking at he had not yet explored. Areas of light where the combined wealth of the residents was more than the rest of the entire city, a sea of twinkling in amongst which microcrimes and gang violence would be happening, families settling down for the night, honeymooners on their way to their hotels. Somewhere down there, Geoff was counting his money from the last job, Jack was in some police station somewhere, Lindsay was drifting between mysterious clients across the city.

Looking over, Gavin didn't seem to be thinking about any of this. In fact, his mind seemed to be far away from crime, the Fake AH Crew, everything. He was taking photos of the lights, and the overhead planes, and the Vinewood sign that guarded the city below. He was like a child entering Disneyland for the first time.

When the wheel reached the bottom, Gavin seemed both disappointed but also fulfilled. 'That was so cool,' he said, clearly impressed.

'Yeah, I guess,' Michael said off-handedly, although he did actually think the view had been quite spectacular.

There wasn't really anything to say, so Michael just let Gavin lead the way, and found that they were going towards all the fruit machines back towards the front of the pier. Michael wasn't really carrying any cash, which was probably for the best, since his competitive streak often left him broke after playing on these things.

As Gavin raided his pockets for lint and spare change, Michael noticed that instead of wearing the iconic Fake AH boots which every crew member seemed to wear wherever they went, Gavin was wearing a simple pair of flip flops. Michael felt a bit stupid for wearing his boots, but he had, after all, thought that meeting up with Gavin was a set-up.

'So how's your heist planning going?' Gavin said, pushing four coins aggressively into the fruit machine.

Michael hadn't expected that. He didn't even know how much the crew knew about Geoff's plan for him. Clearly he'd mentioned it, but how in the know were they? What if Gavin figured out that Michael really wasn't that far through with the planning and told Geoff?

'Uh, yeah. Going great.' Gavin didn't even seem to notice how bluntly Michael had put it. 'So, uh, what's all this with Jack then? After your last job?'

Gavin shifted uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on the fruit machine. Not that he was doing very well at it. 'Not Jack,' he mumbled.

'What?' Michael said, confused. 'Yeah, I saw him on the front of the goddamn newspaper! It was Jack, he got arrested for –'

'No, I know what you're saying. Like, yes it's Jack, but no it's not.' Michael clearly wasn't getting it. 'It was _Ryan_ . Jack was wrongly accused, but Ryan let him get the blame. Ryan was the one who'd done all the shit with the vehicles, but when Jack was accused he just went with it.' He turned very sharply to Michael. 'That's how it _is_ , Michael. One minute, you're all allied up, the best of friends, and then as soon as it comes to your own freedom, you're cold. You don't give a shit. At least, that's how it is with Ryan and Ray. Those two are _not_ above killing people who get in their way.'

When Gavin inevitably lost at the fruit machine, they moved down a little to the slot machines. Expecting Gavin to not be great at these either, Michael was surprised to see he actually had quite a bit of skill when it came to forcing millions of coins out of the machine. What made it even better was the little bar just a few feet away. It meant Michael could grab himself a cheap beer without Gavin even noticing that he'd lost interest in his slot game.

When Gavin got too good for the game he was playing, he moved on to the next machine. This one was a bit trickier. In it were little pictures of explosives, and if you landed on the wrong one then you lost all your money. After some deliberation, Gavin turned to Michael.

'Michael, boi. Do you think I should go for the mean-looking dynamite, or the nice dynamite?'

'Is nice dynamite even a thing?' Michael said, to which Gavin frowned offendedly. 'Well, I just mean... Don't they all end up blowing up anyway? That's not “nice”?'

'Nah,' Gavin said, turning back to the machine. 'I think the difference with _nice_ dynamite, is that it would blow up someone else for you.'

Gavin ended up losing all of his money after landing on the nasty dynamite. At this point, it was very late, and neither of them wanted to be hanging around in the cold on the pier of Vespucci Beach any more.

'You driving?' Michael asked Gavin when they got back to the car park. Gavin gave a concerned look.

'Uh, no? Remember? I don't drive?'

Michael felt a sudden pang of regret and panic as he remembered, and realised that he'd been drinking. There was no way he was below the limit at this point, but unless he drove them both, they were going to be stuck with the sands of Vespucci as a bed for the night, and neither of them wanted that.

Despite his blood-alcohol level, Michael managed to get Gavin back to the apartments on Power Street relatively safely. It had been a strange night, but one that Michael had actually ended up enjoying. Maybe he didn't need the stress relief as much as Gavin did, but it had certainly taken his mind off things.

He and Gavin said their goodbyes, and without hanging around, Michael put the car into drive, and continued his way back home.

 


	7. Don't Cross the Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ain't nobody gets past Geoff.

In a time of going incognito, Ryan and Ray didn't expect to be called in to Geoff's apartment. They shouldn't be hearing from him for weeks. It was crew etiquette, and Ray and Ryan had been living in their second homes well away from downtown Los Santos as part of their role. The fact that Geoff had specifically called them, and wanted them to travel miles across the city to come to _his house –_ their base of operations – meant he was serious about something.

What he'd told them was that they had to discuss business, but the incognito period was like purdah, they just didn't discuss that stuff during it. When Ryan and Ray actually turned up at Geoff's, their suspicions were confirmed when they were met with his stern expression. It was uncomfortable. Ray didn't really care, he just went along with whatever and made sure he was prepared for the worst, but Ryan found it strange. He'd never really seen Geoff like this, not since the two actually got on very well.

But this was Geoff's territory, and neither of them wanted to coax him to say anything before he was damn well ready to.

Luckily, that happened pretty quickly.

'I'm gonna be honest with you two.' His voice was low, and flat, and calm. It was chilling. 'I am... Disgusted... With how you two have behaved of late.' Geoff's finger swirled around the rim of a wine glass on the counter. Not his usual beverage of choice; the whole atmosphere was off here.

Ray cocked his head. He didn't like being accused. He especially didn't like it when people didn't do it straight. What was Geoff saying? They'd completed the heists. They'd helped get Geoff his fucking take! What was his problem?

'Ryan, you fucking abandoning Gavin on the Dealership Heist? And Ray,  _shooting_ at Michael? When was that  _ever_ part of the plan?' He slammed his hand down on the counter next to the wine class, causing it to shake a little.

Ryan and Ray looked at each other, but Geoff wasn't done.

'And Ryan, I still can't quite believe that you actually  _let_ Jack take the fall on our last job! Crime is dirty but you don't betray your own crew. How fucking dare you.'

'Gavin...' Ryan began, addressing Geoff's initial accusation. 'Geoff, I was only trying to get rid of the weak link in the group.'

'No. No, no.' Geoff waved his hand, indicating that Ryan should stop talking. Ryan stopped in a defeatist way, but his eyes were dark as he watched Geoff talk. 'The group works well together, okay? And the only “weak link” is the lack of goddamn trust you get after pulling a stunt like that.' When Ryan opened his mouth to speak, Geoff cut in, his voice that quiet calm again. 'You do  _not_ get to call those shots.'

Geoff pulled his hand through his hair, and reached down to take a sip from his glass of wine. You could tell from his expression that he'd much rather be drinking a spirit, but he seemed determined to keep the wine thing going.

'Now, with Jack,' he continued. 'I understand that you were trying to save your own ass when Jack got taken down. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't done it before, but it was your fucking job, and if it went wrong then that was on  _your_ watch. You should have been more careful for the situation to have never arisen in the fucking first place.'

He didn't even give Ryan the opportunity to respond before he turned to Ray, who looked like he was ready for a fight. Geoff didn't like that. On top of trying to kill an ally, he didn't like that Ray behaved like he was top dog – like wronging him was a crime, and anyone who tried to do so should be punished. There was only one boss around here, and it sure as hell was not Ray.

'Why'd you try to kill a team member?' Geoff said bluntly.

'Michael isn't a team member.'

'Oh, he will be. Once his initiation is done, he's in it for the long run. And you should have goddamn treated him like one back then. I put him in that heist, he was an acting member. It's fucking simple.'

'I thought you wanted rid of him,' Ray said defensively.

'I'm calling fucking bullshit right there, since I  _never_ suggested that at all. Next excuse.'

Ray sighed, his angry eyes still locked onto Geoff, his teeth practically grinding themselves into dust.

'I don't want him on the team.'

Geoff spat out a forced laugh. 'What, is it because he's from Liberty City too? You don't like being the only one?' The tone of his voice said he was laughing at Ray now, something which Ray really didn't like, but he remained serious.

'He's not from LC.'

'Grow the fuck up, Ray,' Geoff said, venom in his voice, the laughter in it now gone. Whatever Ray could come up with, whatever bullshit he could start spouting, none of it could justify the fact that he'd tried to kill a member of his own crew.

'If you two don't sort your shit out by the next heist, which is, by the way, Michael's initiation –' A condescending look to Ray. '– Then you are both out. And trust me, if you're out of the protective bubble that I, as your crew leader, constantly provide, then you will both be arrested within a week, guaran-fucking-teed. Might I remind you  _both_ , that the first rule is you don't betray the fucking crew, and se –'

'Rules are made to be broken.'

It was just a mumble, just in inaudible comment, but Geoff heard it. He'd had enough. He'd had enough of Ray thinking he owned the place, of Ryan making snap decisions to benefit himself over the crew as a whole. This was it. He wasn't even going to give them the time of day any more.

'Both of you. Just get. The fuck. Out of my apartment. Now.'

Geoff didn't even watch as Ryan and Ray unhesitatingly let themselves out, but he did make the effort to follow their exit with slamming his door as hard as he could.

He found himself pacing up and down his kitchen, his hand scratching nervously at his face, his other one alternating between reaching for his wine glass, and being pulled back in, anxiety not letting him make his mind up. He didn't know what to do. As leader, he always made an effort to look like he was in total control, and most of the time he was: he was good at his job, he could plan and lead heists, and he'd kept these top-class criminals from being arrested for such a long time. The contacts he had and the protection he constantly provided meant yeah, he was fucking good at his job.

But now he was feeling conflicted. Nothing like this had happened before. Sure, not everyone in the group were the best of friends. Geoff had never personally liked Ray, and he wasn't even sure that Ray and Ryan got on, they just had a mutual drive that motivated them when they worked, so they made good team mates. And that was it – that was the whole point: they didn't have to like each other, because they all worked well, and that was the entire point. They all had skill sets that complimented everyone else's, they all knew what they were doing and knew they could count on the others to do their jobs, and they'd all get out of a job safely, usually a lot richer. It wasn't a friendship group, it was a workforce, and the balance within it had always been perfect.

But now Michael had been invited in, the peace was being disrupted. And for once, Geoff genuinely didn't know what to do. He really liked Michael. He hadn't seen everything he could do yet, but he clearly wasn't new to crime, and Geoff was sure there were dark secrets disguising certain talents that the crew could no doubt utilise. But since Michael had been with them, everything was falling apart. The balance between Ryan and Ray's determination and hatred had been thrown way off course, and it seemed now that they didn't even care what happened with the crew, just themselves. Gavin looked like he was starting to question whether he really wanted to be there. Geoff knew he fucking hated working with them, but since Gavin had nothing else, the question of whether or not he should leave had never even crossed his mind. And Jack, Geoff's oldest and most reliable partner, was now in jail. The ultimate blunder, something that Geoff had strived for years to prevent from happening to any of his crew members. It had now happened to Jack, and it was all thanks to Ryan.

Geoff's head was spinning. Everything was turning into a conflict, and he didn't like it. All he could hope for now was that Michael would turn up with a really good heist on his hands, and he could maybe then prove himself to the others. Then things would return to normal.

That's it, that's what he was gonna hope for.

Defeated in his storm of thoughts, Geoff stopped pacing, and finally reached out and took the wine glass. As he took a swig, he tried to force his worries away. Yeah, he thought, once Michael has proved himself, Ray and Ryan will quit with their petty acts of betrayal. Otherwise – and he really hated himself for thinking it – his trust in Ryan and Ray was rapidly, rapidly dwindling.

 


	8. Days of Crimes Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Lindsay find out things about each other's past.

After so long of believing that he'd never find out, Michael finally discovered where it was that Lindsay lived. And he was right, she wasn't some East Los methbabe, she was high end. Really high end. The owner of a beautiful five-bedroom house with a pool and a tennis court in the Rockford Hills, Lindsay had really made a life for herself.

He found out, because Lindsay invited him to meet up in the area. When he asked why it was she wanted to go there, she said because that was where she lived – duh. After convincing her, she'd given in to showing him her actual house. There was no one else who lived there, but she did have a cleaner who came in every three days to make the place look as nice as it rightfully should. The lawn was perfectly mown, thanks to her gardener, and the land was beautiful. It must be really hard to get such a large plot in the middle of a city, but when you have money, Michael thought, maybe it's just that bit easier.

When Lindsay finally managed to pull Michael away from her house, they began a walk around the area. That seemed to be what they did when they met up now. Sometimes they'd pull into a bar during their walks, but it was nice, because it just meant they were there to enjoy each other's company. It was always a nice break from their work.

'I am sorry I haven't been able to meet up sooner,' Lindsay said unprompted as they walked along in the bright sun. Michael didn't know if the weather was genuinely better here, or that it just seemed that way because this place wasn't a shithole like East Los.

'No, no it's cool, man,' Michael said. He didn't want Lindsay to feel bad about it, he just appreciated being able to spend time with her.

'Yeah, I just have so much work at the moment, it's not even all done, I just...' She looked stressed, and combed a finger through her hair to calm herself.

'Hey,' Michael said, gently tapping Lindsay's hand, alerting her to the nervous tick she probably didn't even know she had. 'Relax, don't worry about it right now.' It was useless advice, but he could hardly give advice when he didn't actually know what he was giving advice about.

A moment of silence passed, and Michael decided he'd ask. 'So, uh, what actually is it that you do?' He sounded nervous, he really didn't know if Lindsay would want to answer.

'Transport,' she said vaguely, not even looking at Michael. When there came no reply, she turned to him. 'Basically, if there's a vehicle that needs to be delivered, I can handle it.'

Michael raised his eyebrows.

'I mean, over time it's become more and more legal, but when I first started, it was mainly repos. I moved to LS after I left university, because I knew there'd be more opportunities here. But I ended up getting involved in crime anyway.' Her tone of voice was strange. Not like she hated the fact, not like she was upset to have worked in crime, but more than she wasn't proud of it, and she knew she could have done more.

Michael didn't find it that way at all. All he had to do was look at Lindsay's house to see how well she'd done for herself over the years. Repos didn't earn that kind of cash. It was strange listening to someone else's crime story though. His was such a mess.

'I've been involved in crime since I left high school.' He smiled to himself reminiscently, although now he was recalling it, it was quite a sad fact that he first became a criminal aged sixteen. 'I didn't actually live in Liberty City, but I got really involved in a lot of gangs there, hence why I ended up in prison.' He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. 'I was there for physical assault. It was a rival gang member. The crew I was with at the time were having a delivery of a large stack of cannabis, like, a  _large_ stack. You can buy weed for a fucking cent and a blow job down an alley these days, but there was so much of this shit, it had a decent street value. But this rival gang came in and tried to steal it from us, and it got brawly, and I got done for physical assault.'

Lindsay didn't say anything at first. It sounded like this was something Michael had never properly spoken about before. He wasn't even mentioning the details of anything. She'd met criminals before who'd worn their arrests like a trophy, who believed getting arrested was a rite of passage. Michael didn't sound upset recounting the story, but he sounded like something he wasn't telling her was bothering him.

He sighed. It was okay, he guessed, he trusted Lindsay. 'I might be joining a new crew in Los Santos.'

'I've always seen myself as a solo flier,' Lindsay said chirpily. Wow, she thought, Michael did not sound happy about joining a new crew. Maybe that was it.

'Well,' Michael laughed. ' _That_ was my plan for when I moved down here. Start working on my own, then you got no strings tied to other people, and no one else can fuck it up for you. But when I first got here, I got all caught up in some shit with a couple of crew members and that ended up getting me involved. It's so dumb. I come out of prison, and sometimes I wish I was back in there. Like, my prison sentence I served? That was my  _best_ case scenario. That happened, and it was the most desirable out of all the things that could have happened. I don't think being with this crew is going to end so good for me.'

'So now you know what your future is with these guys? You been reading your horoscope too much?' Lindsay jeered.

Michael snorted. 'Oh, yeah, totally.' His demeanour fell calm and quiet again. 'I'd want out, but I have to plan this stupid fucking heist for them to prove myself.'

He looked up, searching for something else he could talk about, or at least use as an excuse to say he'd been distracted. He was surprised to see they'd come round in a full circle, ending back up outside of Lindsay's house.

There was no point in circling back round again, and they were discussing pretty sensitive stuff, so Lindsay decided it would probably be best for them to go inside. She took Michael in, and the two sat down on adjacent sofas in her pristine living room, the void, black screen on the eighty-inch TV staring down at them.

'You know you don't have to do it, right?' Lindsay said once they sat down. 'You could just fuck off?'

'Nah,' Michael said sadly. 'Once you're caught up with a crew, taking the easy way out isn't really an option any more. You basically have to kill the members and burn the bodies to get rid of them. And the boss of this one is weird. It's all a big loyalty thing. I'm pretty sure the way he works, is that he recruits people who've fucked things up for him, and threatens them to do “favours” for him as payment.'

'Wait, like, sexual favours?' Lindsay couldn't help a smile forcing its way onto her face at the amusing thought that Michael didn't actually rob places, or whatever, he just had to fuck some crew leader once a week.

'No – God, no! Like, so, there's this one guy on the team –' Michael's thoughts turned to Gavin. '– He really screwed up some business for this leader, because he got caught smuggling drugs or some shit. So he was made to join, as payment. So basically, you fuck something up for this guy, and he'll make you work for him to make up for it. It's fucked, but I mean, the crew? The guys in it? They are fucking good at their jobs. They absolutely know what they're about.'

Lindsay didn't answer for a second, taking in what Michael had said. She was being careful to take interest, but not ask too many questions. She knew that what Michael was saying now was probably way beyond the amount he was allowed to share. She didn't want him to start naming members, or anything like that.

'So, do you know what you wanna do for your heist yet?'

'God, no, I have no idea.' There was stress in his voice. Lindsay could tell this whole ordeal was stressing Michael out a lot. She wished she could help him out, but there was no way she could. She knew the life, and Michael was right: once you were in, you're in. You can't suddenly back out, and no one is going to cut you any slack. If she started comforting Michael right now, and telling him that it was okay to be stressed and that everything would be alright, he'd become accustomed to it, and find himself craving comfort. It was cruel, but it was just something you couldn't pander to in this life. It was a tough love, but at the end of the day, Michael was going to have to deal with it, whether he liked it or not. 'Maybe I'll involve the bank, or something? God, I don't know.'

Michael could tell he was stressed and tired, because he wouldn't have even told Lindsay that that was his plan. Telling details of your heist to anyone outside of your crew was a massive risk – especially when that person had their own experiences in crime. But he did trust Lindsay, and he was just too stressed to care right now.

Lindsay nodded, but she was distracted by her phone starting to bleep. After answering it with urgency in the next room, she came back looking inconvenienced.

'What is it?' Michael asked.

'Work. It's a job.'

Michael's heart sank a little. If Lindsay had to work then it probably meant that he had to go home. And that meant pouring over his heist plans again, something which now even the thought of doing made him queasy. He watched Lindsay chew her lip for a couple of seconds, thinking, before she said, 'No, you know what, you can come with me.'

'I – what? Come with you... On a job?'

'Yeah. It won't be very interesting, but it'll be even  _less_ interesting if I have to do it on my own. Plus you can see what sort of thing I do for work, and realise actually how boring it is.' But Michael didn't really care. Both he and Lindsay had been very secretive about what they did, and their lives in general. He'd opened up to her, and now he was grateful that she was letting him in to part of her life too.

Lindsay gestured for Michael to get up, and took them both out of the house. She locked up, and led Michael down the street, where they turned into some kind of alley which opened up on an industrial car park where two lorries sat. Through the gaps in the buildings, Michael could see the flat landscape of Morningwood.

A man got out of one of the lorries, and greeted Lindsay like an old friend. Her hostile expression didn't reciprocate his attitude, and she curtly took the keys from the man, and climbed into the driver's side of the lorry. Michael stood awkwardly by the side of the vehicle as he didn't want to make a fool of himself trying to reach for the door handle, and instead let Lindsay shove the door open from the inside. When she did so, Michael gave the man (who was looking very jealous that he wasn't the one getting into a lorry with Lindsay) an acknowledging nod, and climbed in to the passenger seat.

Just as he was about to ask Lindsay where they were headed, she held her hand up to him to stop him. Michael noticed she had her phone to her ear, and was probably listening for something.

'Foxtrot Zulu to Foxtrot India Bravo? Got it.' Pause. 'Yes, yeah, I know. I know how it works, I'm not an amateur.' Pause. 'Alright. Paid straight after. Perfect. Headed to Foxtrot Zulu now.'

She hung up the phone and looked over at a confused Michael. 'That was my client,' she said, putting the lorry into reverse and beginning to back out of the car park. Michael had never been in a lorry before, and didn't know anyone who could drive one. It was a strange experience, and definitely not what he pictured his afternoon doing. 'We gotta go to Fort Zancudo. I'm picking up two tanks and taking them to the FIB HQ.'

'Holy shit, what's that for?'

'I don't know. It's not my job to ask, it's my job to do. I get paid very generously for doing without questions, so I intend to do just that. Besides, I've been doing this so long, I have the authority to do this. A newbie would go within two miles of Zancudo and find a military missile in their face before they could remember even why they were there.'

Michael knew that feeling well – the 'do and don't ask' ethos. In fact, it was something that was practically ingrained in his blood from being in crime so long. He knew it meant one other thing too: perhaps Lindsay wasn't as much out of the shady shit as she'd initially let on.

There was one thing though – Lindsay was literally being asked to deliver military equipment from Fort Zancudo, and  _take it to the FIB_ . She had the authority to do that without being questioned. Whatever the reasons were, this girl had contacts. Valuable contacts, and it was impressive. So impressive in fact...

'So, Lindsay. What do you think about maybe helping me with my heist?'

'What?' Lindsay sounded surprised, but not annoyed. It could even be argued that there was a hint of excitement in her voice. She turned her attention to manoeuvring the lorry around a corner, and then addressed Michael again. 'Actually, that would be so cool. I'd love to get back in the game.'

Michael smiled to himself. Not only did he have an extra pair of hands to help him plan in the final couple of weeks he had to do so, but the particular pair of hands offering to help were smart, cunning, and well-networked. The perfect heist partner.

The journey went fairly smoothly. Michael stayed in the lorry the entire time, even when Lindsay had to get out and talk official business with people at both the military base, and the FIB HQ. When one of the men noticed Michael in the passenger seat, it seemed Lindsay dealt with it, because no one came to investigate. The tanks were loaded up onto the lorry fine, and getting them off for the FIB didn't seem to take too long either. The groups of employees who collected the tanks looked important and suspicious, like it was a scene straight out of a spy movie. If only these people knew all the things Michael had done in his life, all the criminals he associated with. He would not be just quietly sitting in his seat, that's for sure.

By the time they returned the delivery lorry to the car park in Morningwood, however, the sky was dark and time had definitely passed by swiftly. Driving to Blaine County, and then back down the Great Ocean Highway, back into and across the city, up the Palomino Freeway, and back home took a long time. Michael could only just feel his legs when he finally got out of the lorry.

'You're gonna hate me for this, but when we get back to my place, you're getting in my car,' Lindsay said after dropping the lorry's keys off in some office.

'Why? I have my own car?' Michael said. Lindsay had no reason to take him home; he could get there himself.

'I'm gonna take you out,' she said. Michael stopped. What did that entail? Where was she taking him? Where did this suddenly come from?

When she realised he'd stopped walking alongside her, Lindsay turned around and stopped. 'Hey, stupid. I'm starving, and I bet you are too. So we might as well go and get dinner, yeah?' Michael caught his breath again and caught up with Lindsay, his storm of date-related thoughts coming to a calm demise. 'There's a place in Little Seoul that I love, and you can fucking bet I'm craving it right now. So I think we'll go there.'

When Lindsay had said they were 'getting in her car', Michael assumed that they would go into her garage, and there would be a car in there that they could hop into and be on their way. But, of course, he was wrong. It was just like being at Geoff's apartment again. There wasn't just one car. There were a lot of cars. All with beautiful paint jobs, and careful details, and immaculate finishes. Anyone would think the garage was a showroom, and that none of these cars had ever been driven before.

Rather than spend any time gawping at her own collection of cars, Lindsay opened the door to a red Pegassi Osiris by the entrance, triggering Michael to pull himself away from looking around, and follow her into the car. In comparison to some of the vehicles in there, the Osiris was a tin can.

It didn't take them long to get to Little Seoul, since it was only a few miles away from where Lindsay lived. Had they been going from Michael's house, that would have been a whole other story. The particular restaurant Lindsay chose was a Japanese one, where each fish looked as if it had been hand selected and specially prepared, as if every dinner guest was royalty. The menu prices reflected that however, and although Michael  _did_ have the money for it, Lindsay was more than happy to pay.

Once they'd been pleasantly filled with food that tasted like it had descended from heaven itself, Michael readied himself to be taken home. It had been a long day after all, and even though he was really enjoying sharing the high life with Lindsay, he couldn't deny that he wanted to go to bed.

However, when the turns Lindsay took in the car did not match his route home, he couldn't help but wonder where she was actually going.

'Look, you want my help for your heist stuff, right?' Lindsay said. Michael didn't see where she was going with this, but nonetheless responded with an unsure, 'Yeaaah?'

'Well, your current... Look... Doesn't really fit the aesthetic. You look like you just got out of prison.'

'I... I did..?' Michael still didn't get what was going on.

'No shit. So I'm taking you to Poisonbys, so we can pick you up some actual, uh,  _classy_ attire.'

Michael felt a bit like Lindsay was being ridiculous. She knew he had plenty of money, and she'd already paid for a very expensive meal for him tonight. He didn't require fancy clothes like he did food, and yet she was still here insisting that she bought him some. He wanted to tell her to not bother, and to just take him home instead. But if he knew anything about Lindsay, it was that she didn't back down: no one gets as far in life as she had by saying no.

He'd expected them to go in, get some shit, go out, go home, and that it would be quiet judging by the time in the evening. What he hadn't expected was to see a man with messy brown hair, and looking effortlessly tasteful browsing the sunglasses and staring at himself in the mirror.

'Gavin?' Michael said, disbelieving at the serendipity.

The quickness with which the man turned caused him to almost knock over the entire shelving unit of sunglasses. Somehow, he managed to save it from actually falling over.

'Michael?' There was just as much surprise in Gavin's voice as there had been in Michael's. He pulled off the sunglasses, as if it was going to help him see Michael better.

Michael could hear Lindsay walking in behind him. He turned to look; it was so obvious that she was used to coming in here, or at least to places like here. The confidence with which she walked in, the way she knew exactly what she was looking for. The only thing she wasn't used to was walking in on some English dude excitedly greeting her friend.

'Well, anyway,' Gavin said, carefully putting the glasses he'd been wearing back on the stand. He gestured towards a bag in his hand, which contained at least three of the same shirt he was currently wearing: a crisp, long-sleeved, grey-blue button-up. 'I should probably go. We'll hang out again soon.'

Michael frowned at Gavin's purchase. He knew Gavin had money, but the fact he had enough to consistently come and buy new versions of the same shirt? What even was that? The shirts Gavin wore always looked new, fresh, clean. But Michael had just assumed it was because, y'know, Gavin owned a washing machine.

The two said their byes, and Lindsay led Michael over to the male clothing section. 'Who was that?' she said quietly, as she browsed jackets. Michael looked to see if the cashier was listening to them, but once convinced that they weren't, turned back to Lindsay. 'Crew member. But he's actually pretty nice, unlike the others who all pretty much hate me.' He smirked to himself. 'Especially Ray,' he added under his breath.

'Why especially Ray?' Lindsay asked, but Michael just shook his head.

'I don't know,' he said quickly.

The subject was dropped, and Michael managed to pick himself out some clothes he really liked. The main item was a brown leather jacket with a big wolf printed on the back of it. It wasn't necessarily the 'fancy' and 'classy' that Lindsay might have had in mind for him, but he felt it looked iconic, and that was important to him. They also picked up a pair of aviators – not because Gavin had been trying on shades, but because he'd never owned a pair and now was the perfect chance.

He didn't say it out loud, but Lindsay had had a point. Getting this jacket suddenly made him feel motivated. He wanted to work on his heist, he wanted to be the best. He wanted to impress the others, even if he didn't actually want to be a part of the crew. He wanted to be the top of his game again. The only thought that was acting as any kind of resistance was the knowledge that Ray or Ryan might pop a bullet in his skull at any time.

After that, there were no more surprise destinations, and Michael could finally go home. The night was dark and cold by the time the two were outside Michael's door. It was like being forced through a wormhole into another universe. He'd spent the day at Lindsay's palace of a house, seeing what it was like to just drive straight into the military base and the FIB HQ, dining on first-class fish, and buying expensive clothes, and now here he was, back in East Los Santos, outside his cardboard box of a house, saying goodbye to the life of luxury he'd experienced that day.

The only thing that was there to soften the blow was the beautiful face staring right back at him as he said goodbye. He really hadn't known Lindsay for long, but she was something to look forward to, to admire and appreciate, when he wasn't working. She was the Los Santos landmark that made him love living here despite how much he hated the Fake AH Crew. He might be saying goodbye to a wonderful day, but at least he was saying it to someone who was, to him, near-enough perfect.

'I expect I'll be seeing you soon,' Lindsay said, a cockiness in her voice. Michael smiled. He certainly hoped so. 'Oh,' she added. 'If you need to talk heist at all, you just hit me up, alright? I wanna be sure you rock it, okay?'

'Yeah, I'll call you,' Michael said, but he was distracted by the genuine smile Lindsay was giving him. He didn't even realise it happening, and he didn't think she did either, but suddenly they were kissing. It wasn't a teen-romance kind of kiss, all soppy and gross, but it was on the mouth. So it was significant.

When they pulled away, Lindsay gave Michael a last smile, and walked back to her car. She didn't even say anything about what had just happened. It was like it wasn't a big deal. Or maybe she was just teasing. Who knew? All Michael knew that he was suddenly very happy, and that the prospect of all the planning he had to do was completely washed away from his mind, and replaced with the absolute elation he felt inside right now.

 


	9. A Denial of Liberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation

After so long of constant procrastination, Michael was finally getting down to working on his heist for real. After that day with Lindsay, he was feeling motivated and inspired. He had to impress the guys, impress himself, and make Ray and Ryan regret fucking with him, because he was sure as hell going to make himself look good now.

He'd had the idea of targeting the bank, but in his sheepishness hadn't even bothered to consider how he might go about doing that. But no. Now, he was set on it. The bank was a big take, and if he didn't plan an attack on it, someone else would, and the credit would be theirs. Michael was gonna go big, or go home.

He must have had at least four maps out in front of him of the entire city with illegible writing and scruffy arrows showing various routes all over them. If he was going to go for the Maze Bank, they would need getaway vehicles that couldn't be easily targeted... Which probably meant they shouldn't all be together. He knew there would be so many police everywhere the second they entered the bank, so there was going to be such a small window of opportunity for getting away.

Man, this was going to be difficult.

When a problem arose, there would always be a part of Michael that would feel disappointed, like he was letting himself down because it wasn't going to work. But he'd keep pushing himself through. No, he wasn't going to fail himself, or the crew, he was going to see this through. He'd never been a heist planner in his old crew – at least not for the seriously big jobs, but he couldn't imagine it was an easy job. And Geoff definitely wouldn't take it so seriously if it  _was_ !

Consulting his maps, an idea came to him: maybe it would be easier if they had surveillance from the skies as well as the ground. Michael grabbed a marker pen lying lidless on the table, and scribbled down the side of one of the maps the idea of stealing a chopper. He didn't know the airport well enough to be able to make a judgement on how well that would go, but it was an idea, and no doubt one of the guys could help. If he really had to, he could just ask Gavin.

But, wait – another idea – if they left immediately on the chosen vehicles, the police would have their exact profiles from the word go. Perhaps it would be better if they used a different set of vehicles, and then changed part way through the getaway. That would surely make them harder to find. And the new vehicles should be fast. Motorbikes would be absolutely perfect. They were open and vulnerable, but if the cops didn't even know you were on them, then that hardly mattered!

Michael was beginning to get excited about how his plan was coming together, and he was just scribbling down some of his ideas when he heard someone knock at his door.

Now that was really weird, he thought. Lindsay would have called first, Gavin wouldn't show up here, Jack was in prison still, Ryan had no business being here, Geoff wouldn't make the effort to come here, and Ray didn't even know where Michael lived. So who the hell was it?

Being sure to conceal the planning first, Michael got up and cautiously walked over to the door. He tried to peer through his peep-hole, but the grime that covered it meant the person behind it was indistinguishable. Michael sighed. Whoever it was, he was going to have to open the door to them.

He took a breath and swung the door open, which was immediately followed by a very pissed-off looking man storming through it. It wasn't until Michael had shut the door and gave the person his full attention before he realised that it was Ray. So he did know where he lived.

Michael couldn't really help but feel slightly threatened. Ray definitely wasn't his biggest fan, and here they were in a confined space together. Not what Michael wanted, especially when he was in such a flow with planning the heist getaway. He couldn't help but focus on the fact that Ray really didn't look too happy.

As Ray composed himself, Michael slipped his arm round the door frame on which he was leaning. It was the door into his kitchen, and that was where he kept a pistol on the side. Perhaps it was careless, but he'd always found it convenient. He'd done it back in Liberty City too. It was just a general precaution in case someone came barging through the door.

He felt his fingers close around it, preparing himself just in case Ray had come here for a fight. It wasn't a very inconspicuous position, but Ray either didn't notice or didn't give a shit.

Michael didn't take his eyes away from Ray when he started to talk.

'You are not welcome in the crew,' he said bluntly. Michael ground his teeth. He wasn't going to rise to it, he wasn't going to rise to it.

Ray gave the most sneering smile he could muster, and got closer to Michael this time. 'You fucked up too much back in Liberty City. Way too fucking much, and, oooh, dude. I know  _exactly_ what you fucking did. I know fucking everything. And you have no right – no goddamn right – to come down here and fuck up everything we have. Again.'

Michael took a breath in. He was going to be calm, and steady with his words. If he rose to Ray's level of aggression, the fight would get out of hand, and someone would get seriously hurt. It really didn't look this this was going to end well for one of them, Michael just hadn't figured out who yet.

'Geoff likes me,' he said calmly.

'I don't give a  _fuck_ what Geoff thinks,' Ray spat almost immediately. 'You know something about Geoff? All he fucking does is throw his weight around, blackmailing others to do his fucking dirty work for him, because he's too damn scared to get caught himself, and he'll fucking take down as many people as he can before he goes down himself. Why the fuck would I care what he thinks? He's a coward.'

He wiped his face from the sweat that had built up from the aggravation, and the spit that he'd managed to flick from speaking with such heated force. He calmed himself for a second, and then began again more slowly.

'I don't trust you, Michael. I don't even trust the fucking dirt you walk on, is how much I don't trust you. You are the reason Geoff no longer trusts me, and I am not okay with that. That's not cool with me. And you know what? Ryan doesn't like you either. You wanna know what he actually said? He said your following skills were bull-fucking-shit, they were lazy. And that kind of carelessness is dangerous for the crew, and it's not fucking welcome. That's what Ryan fucking thinks of you.'

As Ray stopped for another pause to recollect himself, Michael was suddenly overcome with a gut instinct that told him not to trust Ray and Ryan at any cost. He knew they didn't like him, God, did he know that. But the ferocity with which Ray was reminding him, the way he spoke, like their hatred of Michael was a common topic of conversation for them... There was no way that Michael could trust those two.

'Now you listen fucking here,' Ray said, clearly recovered once more. 'I don't give a shit if your initiation heist is the best fucking heist I've ever done. I don't care if it gets us more money than we've ever had, I don't care if it fucking goes down in history, gets its own little Wikipedia article and a special mention in fucking history classes fifty years from now. I don't fucking care! But if you do not resign from the crew  _immediately_ after we do it, and leave Los Santos, I will fucking kill you for what you did.'

There was another pang in Michael's heart, but this time it wasn't out of distrust. It was out of fear. He had a feeling that even if Michael did resign, Ray would be after him. But he couldn't. There was no way Michael could resign, and Geoff let him out alive. But now there was no way he could stay, and Ray let him walk through alive. And if he had to leave Los Santos, he wouldn't get to see Lindsay again...

'You know, I never wanted to be in this crew, right?' Michael finally said. He still made an effort to keep his arm round the door frame, his hand sweating around his gun. 'After everything that went down in Liberty City? After fucking jail? I wanted to work on my own from then on. No crews, no nothing. Ever. I wanted to be far fucking from LC, and on my own.'

'Fuck Liberty City,' Ray spat. 'You should have had your fucking liberty taken away from you for so much longer – you should be fucking rotting in the LC High Security right now.'

He took a deep breath in, and actually laughed to himself. 'And I feel like I'm getting some kind of redemption for that, y'know? Because the only way out is with a fucking bullet through your skull, and maybe you should know all about that. I'm giving you a fucking chance, man. By telling you to leave this fucking city, I am giving you another option, that, honestly? You don't deserve.'

Ray stopped. He considered going on more to Michael, but decided instead that he would leave it there. Michael had received his threat; the message had sunk in. Leave, or die. Without wasting another second of energy on Michael, Ray was out of the house and in his car before Michael could even comprehend a response.

When the front door locked shut on its own accord, Michael let go of the gun that was practically glued to his hand. It fell to the counter with a large noise, one which broke the silence stirring fear and anxiety into Michael's mind.

He'd really been given the ultimatum now. He secretly knew it was always going to happen. The second he knew he was going to be expected to work with Ray, he fucking knew. And now it was real, and he didn't know what to do.

And the thing was, maybe Ray was actually right. Maybe the only way out really was with a bullet through the skull.

 


	10. From Silk to Sweatpants

Ray's visit had kept Michael on edge from then on, but he was still determined to do the best he could with his heist. It helped that he'd found a balance in his life: he wasn't constantly out, ignoring his work and the responsibilities he had, but he wasn't permanently inside, cooped up and stressed either. He'd managed to find time to meet up with Gavin a couple of times, which was always refreshing, as even though they weren't necessarily bosom friends, they always had fun together. The crew was never a primary topic of conversation, and he thought they both saw their time together as time away from work. Michael definitely appreciated how well they got on.

He'd also, of course, seen Lindsay a few times too. The words 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' still hadn't been uttered, but they were definitely exclusive at this point. Michael knew too well the feelings he got being around her, and at this point he was sure she felt the same way. They held hands where they went, and kissing became common for when they were departing now. Socially, things were looking very stable.

But the heist still wasn't complete.

Lindsay came over a couple of times to help out, but they didn't get too far with it because Michael still hadn't finalised what it was he wanted to do yet. The Maze Bank was still on the cards, but he had to fine tune the details before he could fully piece together a working plan.

After Lindsay left one day, Michael decided he'd meet up with Gavin as a break from working. So far, almost all of their interactions had been initiated by Gavin. Michael's logic was that if he himself initiated the contact, he'd just convince himself he was procrastinating. But if Gavin did it, it would just be rude to say no.

He didn't really feel like going out, so instead he texted Gavin inviting him over for a drink. Maybe they could watch something on TV too. He didn't really know if Gavin was into sports, but there was probably a game on at the Maze Bank Arena that would be televised.

It turned out Gavin wasn't really into sport, but the two ended up finding enough to chat about anyway. Not only that, but in his curiosity, Gavin had found an old original Xbox tucked down the side of Michael's TV that he'd clearly never bothered to unpack when he'd moved in, and the two set it up and ended up playing nostalgic games for what seemed like hours. Michael never thought he'd find himself playing videogames with a top-class criminal in his house in East Los Santos, and yet here he was.

'You know,' Gavin said, taking a swig of beer as they finished a game. 'If you want to get somewhere nicer than this, I can lend you the money.'

Michael laughed, something which confused Gavin, who'd clearly been making a genuine kind gesture. It had almost been a back-handed kindness, but Michael brushed it aside.

'Look,' he said. 'I don't need your money. I mean thank you, but I'm fine. But, I don't know, this place is really shitty, but I've grown used to it. It's like my own space away from everything, and I like that. Besides,' he took a sip of his own beer. 'I don't think it'll be long until I leave, anyway.'

Gavin's face looked like he understood what Michael meant when he said he liked his own space, and privately he was a bit jealous. Not of the house itself, but the fact that it was away from everything. That was something Gavin definitely didn't have.

'Although,' Michael suddenly said, an idea coming to him. 'If you're offering... I could maybe borrow some for the heist?' He knew things weren't finalised, but he was pretty much entirely sure that he wanted to use motorbikes. It would do him a massive favour if Gavin was happy to lend his money towards getting them.

'Uh, sure,' Gavin said, getting out his iFruit to transfer some money over to Michael's account. 'It had better be good. How much do you need?'

Michael thought for a moment before deciding on a price, and once the money was transferred over, Gavin continued. 'I wanna make sure I have a big take, my boi. Risking my freedom and safety for those arseholes again, I just wanna make sure it's worth it.'

'You really don't like them, huh?' Michael said, checking his own phone to make sure the money had come through okay.

'To say I didn't like them would be an understatement,' Gavin said darkly, before putting his empty beer bottle on the floor and getting up. His voice returned back to its regular cheerfulness. 'I'm gonna go because I'm bloody exhausted. See you soon, yeah? Let me know how your planning comes along.'

Michael smiled in agreement – he definitely needed some sleep too. 'Yeah, I will,' he said, looking at his sheets of planning with some kind of joking resentment. Michael showed Gavin out, and took himself off to bed, wanting it more than ever.

The next day was the day of something Michael had had planned for a while, and he couldn't help getting excited about it when he awoke that morning. He and Lindsay were due to go out on a date that night – and not a nice-meal-with-a-friend-who-happens-to-be-a-girl sort of date. Like, an actual date.

He'd been aching to ask her on one for a while now, and when they'd been to that Japanese restaurant in Little Seoul together, that had kind of confirmed to Michael that he really wanted to. But it was only since they'd realised their exclusivity that the idea of going on a date had come up in conversation. And it had been a mutual agreement; Michael wasn't the one to have initiated it.

But still, he was excited. Knowing the city better, Lindsay had chosen the restaurant, but Michael didn't know what it was yet. He trusted her though; her taste was exquisite, and it was sure to be high end. The main difference this time was that Michael was going to make sure they split the bill. He wouldn't let Lindsay pay for him again.

He'd made his own trip to Poisonbys one day when he'd had some spare time, to pick out a nice shirt and pair of trousers that he could wear tonight. He'd kept them neatly in their own drawer, unlike everything else he'd owned, and now he was finally going to get to wear them. The shirt was dark blue, and the trousers were black. They'd cost him a fair amount, but Michael couldn't deny that he liked what he saw when he looked in the mirror. He decided to wear his Fake AH Crew boots, and a black leather jacket he already owned.

When he was waiting for Lindsay to arrive, he tried to relax and watch TV, but he couldn't calm the jitters scampering up and down his body. It wasn't that he was nervous, it was that he was excited. Most of all, he couldn't wait to see how Lindsay looked, because he knew she would look incredible.

As soon as he heard the knock at his door, he was up in an instant. His front door didn't have a window in it, so he couldn't even see Lindsay's outline and try and guess what she was wearing. It was going to be suddenly thrown in his face.

And when it was, he was completely overcome. He didn't know what with, but he knew he was overwhelmed. Maybe it was because how beautiful her face looked, with the perfect combination of make-up, or how her red hair shone as it tumbled down her back in effortless waves, or maybe how her figure looked incomparable in the little black dress she was wearing. Maybe it was the curve of her legs or the added height she got from wearing diamond-studded black heels. Maybe it was none of those things. Maybe it was just that the most beautiful woman alive had just turned up at his door dressed like a goddess. Maybe he would never know.

'You ready to go?' she said, trying to hide her pride. She could absolutely tell that Michael was impressed. She'd dressed to impress herself, more than anything, but if other people enjoyed it too then, well, that was just an added bonus.

Michael could hardly reply with words, so he just gave an exasperated nod. Lindsay took his hand, and led him over to her car. As much as Michael loved his Grotti, Lindsay's extensive collection of vehicles was far more impressive, and they'd agreed to go in one of hers. For tonight, she'd picked out her black Pegassi Vacca, and soon they were in it and on their way.

'So, you gonna tell me where it is we're actually going?' Michael said, his eyes scanning the fast-moving landscape as they sped past it.

'Michael, have some chill,' Lindsay taunted. Michael gave her a playful glare, but chose not to pursue it. Clearly it was meant to be a surprise.

Unsurprisingly, they found themselves in Little Seoul again, but rather than head for the cluster of posh restaurants where the Japanese one was, they walked straight past and down towards a different part of the area. When they stopped, it was outside a restaurant that Michael had heard of before, but didn't know why.

Lindsay smiled at him, but when she noticed the confusion on his face, she added, 'It's two Michelin Stars. Owned by one of the most prestigious chefs in the world.' Her smile returned when Michael's confusion turned into amazement. Lindsay had seriously gone all-out for tonight.

When they were finally seated inside, Lindsay leant over and whispered, 'This place usually has a three month waiting list for a table, but luckily I was able to pull some strings.'

Michael didn't even bother asking how. Not only was he amazed with Lindsay because he didn't know someone as beautiful, successful, and awesome as her could exist in the world, but he never failed to be impressed with her contacts and influence. To think he'd met her in a run-down bar in the back-end of East Los Santos, and then here they were now – dining in one of the most sought-after restaurants in the country. How did this even happen?

'You know,' Michael said after they ordered their food. 'Even with all the mess that's gone down since I came here, just everything being...' He didn't want to swear in such a nice place. He sighed. 'I'm just really glad I have you.'

Lindsay raised her glass and smiled. 'Likewise. I guess one day, you're going into some crappy bar in a crappy part of the city, and then the next minute you've found yourself someone special. Or in my case, you.' They laughed and clinked their glasses, albeit quietly so as not to disturb the other diners.

'No but seriously,' Michael said. 'That bar has brought me one seriously amazing thing and one awful thing. My feelings are pretty mixed.'

'I guess you just have to see how things turn out after your heist. Then you can make your mind up whether it was a blessing or a curse.'

Michael paused, thinking it through. 'Yeah,' he said vaguely. 'I could do with some help on it actually. You fancy coming over tomorrow and giving me a hand?'

'Yeah, absolutely,' Lindsay said. Michael was grateful, but right now he wanted to stop thinking about the heist and start thinking about their date. Their food was brought out and he didn't think he'd seen anything more appetising than what was in front of him right now. They both enjoyed their meals immensely, and when it came to paying for it, the bill was way above a thousand dollars. Taking in turns to use their cards to pay their halves, Michael and Lindsay thanked the Front of House and passed their compliments along to the kitchen, before leaving together.

The sky was dark, but the lights of Little Seoul shone brightly as restaurants still heaved with diners enjoying their night. It was busy, but civilised. It wasn't loud, it wasn't rowdy, like the streets of downtown or places like East Los where crime would be happening right now. Michael and Lindsay's fingers were intertwined as they walked, swinging their arms happily, feeling like teenagers.

When they got back to Michael's house, they shared a kiss. It was something they'd done plenty of times before, but this one was so intimate and meaningful. They both knew what it meant. Why share three words when you could tell it so physically?

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Lindsay said under her breath, her face still less than an inch from Michael's, their noses touching.

She pulled away, her hands reluctant to unlink from Michael's. She waved from her car, and the sound of it pulling away ripped through the air obnoxiously. It was like her way of letting the entire neighbourhood know that they'd had an amazing night together.

The next day seemed to come round really quickly. Maybe it was because Michael felt satisfied and tired after the date, and his sleep had been long and solid. This time, he opted for sweatpants and an old t-shirt rather than the silk shirt look. When Lindsay arrived, it appeared she had the same mindset, as she was in a pair of old jeans and a graphic tee. It was so weird thinking that they were the same people they had been last night.

'Alright,' Michael began once Lindsay had settled in. He wanted to cut straight to the chase. 'Here it is.' He went on to brief her about his plan so far. He wanted them to break into the bank, guns wielded, holding the employees at gunpoint and getting them to stay out of the way while they went in and took what they needed. Then they'd take their intermediate vehicles, and find their motorbikes which would act as a quicker getaway. They'd have surveillance from the skies, guiding them, and they'd all split off to make it harder for them all to be followed.

Lindsay listened attentively to everything Michael was saying, and when he was done, it was her turn to add her two cents.

'I think you could do with more back-up,' she started, pointing at the maps and scrawls Michael had laid out. 'There's no reason to have everyone in the bank, and it makes you all more vulnerable anyway. Having more back-up could be a safer bet.'

Michael chewed the pen he was holding, considering it. 'I like it, actually,' he said. Suddenly an idea came to him, and it filled Michael with the excitement and life he'd so desperately needed throughout planning. He was going to split the group, not just in half, but in pairs. Each pair could have a different job and – oh man, this was gonna be perfect!

Instead of explaining to Lindsay the idea he'd just had, Michael decided to ask her what he'd been thinking of for so long. 'So, I'm gonna need some special getaway vehicles,' he said. 'Was wondering if you could help me out on that?'

Lindsay laughed. She was expecting this, it was just funny that Michael acted as though it might be an inconvenience to her. 'Michael, I can get you whatever vehicle you need. And I can get it wherever you want in the city,' she assured him.

Michael's mouth spread into a wide grin, and he leant forward, taking Lindsay's face in his hands and giving her a big smoochy kiss. They were both laughing as they pulled away. 'You are amazing!' Michael told her as he got back to his maps.

His mind frantically thinking about his plan now, he started to think about where would be a good rendezvous point for the crew. They'd want to split up at some point to make them easier to track, but then they'd have to meet up too to share the takings.

'If you do it by the coast, then I can provide you with boats,' Lindsay suggested. Michael liked that idea. The police would be expecting them to stay within the city, or at least on the land. If they had boats, they could drive out to sea and share their takings, and then come back when things had calmed down.

'Okay,' Michael said, agreeing with the idea. 'I need to plan out the routes now.' He carelessly scribbled down the letters 'A', 'B' and 'C' on a piece of paper, each letter representing a team of two that he'd put together. They were all going to have to be doing different things, and take different routes. Now it was Michael's job to plan what those routes were going to be.

It wasn't as simple a task as Michael thought it would be. It had been the afternoon when Michael started, and he was still working into the early hours of the morning. He felt bad that Lindsay was still here, but she insisted she wanted to stay and help. When Michael was particularly deep in thought, she'd just get herself a beer from the kitchen and browse on her phone.

The silence was suddenly broken when another idea came to Michael. 'Hey Lindsay,' he said, still looking at his map, as if trying to figure something out. 'If I asked you to provide me with  _two_ boats, and lace one with sticky bombs, what would you say?'

Lindsay narrowed her eyes. 'Well... I  _can_ , but why?' She was suspicious. What was Michael thinking?

'No, nothing bad!' he said, trying to assure her. 'I wanna use it as a decoy.'

'Well, sure,' Lindsay said nonchalantly. She couldn't be bothered to pursue it. It was clear she was really tired. Michael took that as his cue to put his pen down and stop working for the night. His mind was racing, buzzing with ideas, but enough was enough. He helped Lindsay to the door, and gave her a parting kiss.

'Just remember to check for road closures and whether the bank is actually open, alright?' Lindsay said, sounding a lot like Michael's mum when he was a kid, telling him to not forget his phone, or his bag. 'You put all this work into it, I don't want to see you fall on your face because of a rookie error.'

Michael smiled. 'It's fine, it's happening on a Thursday, so the bank is definitely open. But I will check about the roads.'

Lindsay gave a satisfied nod, and turned away. Michael was reluctant to let her drive herself home, but he also understood why she wouldn't want to leave a very expensive car outside his house in East Los and get a taxi home. When she pulled away safely, Michael felt some relief, and went back inside to go to bed.

He was feeling proud of himself, that's for sure. He'd put more work in tonight than he had over the last few weeks in total. But he'd thrown in some risks too, and as he went to bed, he found his mind begging himself for the plan to work.

 


	11. The Big Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter inbound, but it gets more exciting after this!

To say that Geoff was Michael's least favourite person would be a lie: he wasn't. Michael could think of a good few people who came above Geoff in that list. But that didn't make the idea of pitching him the plan any easier.

It wasn't even a proper pitch he was giving. He just had to tell Geoff that he was done, and the heist was ready to go forward. Michael was a little early, the deadline wasn't for another few days as it didn't have to go forward until next week. So basically, if things went wrong, Geoff was going to be furious.

Michael was sat outside of Geoff's apartment building in his car trying to convince himself to go in for way longer than he'd care to admit. It was terrifying. It wasn't going to take long, he just had to tell Geoff it was done. But it was very final.

He hadn't seen Geoff in a long time; he'd just been someone Michael spoke about with Lindsay and Gavin occasionally. But now Michael was going to have to face him – and in the same building which housed Ryan, Ray, Gavin, and Jack as well. Although, well, Jack wasn't there right now. And it was looking less likely that he'd be back any time soon. Michael hoped that Geoff was still resenting Ryan for that.

This is stupid, Michael thought. I've go to tell him at some point in my life. Just get it over with.

He forced his car door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Michael had lost all care for the fact that it was just parked out the front, when really he should have taken it down into Geoff's garage. He didn't think there was any point wasting time thinking about it as he marched up to Geoff's apartment. He told himself he was taking the stairs to get exercise, but it was really to buy himself some extra time before having to face the boss.

As he pressed the buzzer, he couldn't help thinking that this was it: the Big Moment. When Geoff opened the door, he looked nonplussed, but Michael noticed his mouth twitch upwards at the corners. Oh God, he thought. Geoff had been waiting for this. Now the pressure was on.

'Michael!' Geoff said, trying to sound surprised and letting Michael in. 'Come in. What is it I can do for you?'

This aggravated Michael a little – Geoff knew damn well why Michael was there. Had he just turned up out of the blue, there was no way Geoff would just invite Michael in like that, asking what was up. He'd tell him how dare he think he could just waltz into Geoff's apartment. No, Geoff absolutely knew. He just wanted to hear it from Michael's mouth.

'So, uh, I thought I should come and tell you,' Michael said, following Geoff in, feeling unsure. It was getting on his nerves a little how often he'd come into this apartment. When he'd first come here, he found it impressive and beautiful. Now he just didn't like being here. It always looked the same. Too pristine. Nothing changed except the particular alcohol that Geoff would have out. What did Geoff even do here? 'I've finished. Planning, that is. I'm done.'

Geoff finally let go of his resistance and allowed himself to smile broadly. 'Oh, you have?' he said, although his fake surprise was hardly convincing. It just made Michael feel uncomfortable.

'Yeah, it's done. I'm ready to pitch it to everyone when you are.' He took a hard swallow. Okay, he'd said it now. There was no going back, no changing anything, he was locked in.

'Well, I must say I'm glad to hear it. I can get the meeting sorted for you. How does... Tomorrow? Yeah. How does tomorrow sound?' It sounded genuine but Michael could see the slyness in Geoff's eyes and smile. He was adding on the pressure purposefully.

Well Michael wasn't going to play the victim. 'It sounds perfect,' he said chirpily.

'Alright,' Geoff said, after eyeing Michael for a few seconds. He smiled, letting Michael know he was dismissed. Michael took the message and let himself out, so grateful that he didn't have to spend another minute in Geoff's apartment.

He regretted the fact he hadn't mentioned Ray or Ryan. He didn't know if Geoff was still mad at them both. But he supposed, as the boss, Geoff wasn't really supposed to show partiality, especially when there was a heist on the horizon. It just would have been so useful to Michael to know whether or not Ray and Ryan were in the good books.

He was happy to see that his car had not been damaged or stolen while waiting illegally out the front of the apartment building. Privately, he'd been more worried that Ray or Ryan would have spotted it and done something to it, than he was of any random passer by. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but only partially. There was still so much more to go through before Michael would feel completely relaxed.

But still, he appreciated that facing Geoff was over, and drove himself home, trying as hard as he could to push out of his mind the fact that tomorrow he'd have to tell everyone his plan.

 


	12. The Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to pitch the plan to the crew.

The jitters Michael was having about pitching the plan to everyone the next day were almost comparable to the ones he had before his date with Lindsay. The only thing was, these were definitely out of nerves, and no where near excitement.

Geoff had decided that they were all going to head over the Michael's place for the briefing. Usually Geoff's apartment was the hub of planning, but since this was Michael's heist, Michael could be the one to host the party.

Michael was kind of grateful that he wouldn't have to go to Geoff's apartment again. He didn't like the nauseating feeling it gave him to be there, but then again, he didn't want to start associating that feeling with his own home. He'd done his best to tidy the place up a bit, but at the end of the day, what did he care if the crew thought his home was shabby? Gavin didn't care, and he was the only one that Michael liked at all.

The only thing he had had to do was warn Geoff about the lack of safe parking. The idea of the rest of the crew cramming into a station wagon and coming down together made Michael laugh, but Geoff had insisted they all still come down in their own vehicles. They would deal with anyone who tried to fuck with them personally.

Michael knew they'd arrived when he heard the incredibly loud, low hum of five engines pull up outside. He went to the door to greet them in, and also to take a peek at who'd brought what car. Geoff had come in the same white Grotti Cheetah that he'd been in when Michael had first met him, but it certainly looked like it had had work done to it, as it was flawless. Ray had showed up in a brown Benefactor Panto. Michael had no idea why, it was probably Ray's way of showing he wasn't taking this seriously. Gavin had come in an Inverto Croquette, carelessly slamming the door as he got out. Ryan stepped out of the most magnificent black and green Pegassi Zentorno, which didn't surprise Michael. Ryan was absolutely the sort of person he'd picture having to have the best and fastest car. The last person was someone Michael didn't recognise. He climbed out of a modest Maibatsu Penumbra, and hurried over to Geoff's side to come in with him. He had floppy mousy hair, and was considerably shorter than Geoff.

'Geoff,' Michael said, acknowledging his boss as he reached the front door.

'Michael,' Geoff said back, his voice thick with superiority. Michael noticed his eyes flick down to the ground, like he was checking that Michael was wearing his Fake AH Crew boots. He was.

Michael let the crew in, and led them into his living room, where he'd hung up a map with a final version of his drawings and plans on. He'd put all the other pieces of planning away. He didn't want anyone to see them.

He noticed a sneer from Ray as he came in, looking around at Michael's less-than-impressive house. But he didn't care. Rather live here than in the same apartment building as all the others, cooped up like battery chickens.

When they were all inside, Geoff held his hands up. 'Wait, wait, wait. First, before we begin, I think an introduction is in order.' He moved his hands to gesture to the short man who'd come in with him. Michael acted like he'd forgotten, but in reality he didn't really care who the guy was. Geoff had said he'd get a substitute for Jack, and here he presumably was. Shocking.

'This is Kerry Shawcross, he'll be stepping in for Jack.'

Suddenly Michael was more attentive. Kerry Shawcross? Seriously, this was him?

'You're the guy who got framed?' he said, before he'd even realised he'd spoken. Kerry raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected Michael to have known anything about him.

'We dealt with it,' Geoff said proudly. He'd almost forgotten as well that Michael would have heard of Kerry before. Back on the night they met in the bar, when Michael got introduced to all of this, the reason Ryan and Geoff had been there in the first place was to deal with the man who'd framed Kerry. Well, that ship had sailed. And here Kerry was.

Michael, confused but satisfied, offered everyone a chair and pulled his table into the middle of the room, so everyone could sit around it in front of the map on the wall. He looked around before taking a breath. Okay, here it was, time to go forward with it.

'Okay,' Michael began. 'So lately, things haven't gone so well. At the dealership, the whole mix-up with that, and then everything with Jack –' Michael gave a quick glance at Ryan, who eyed him back suspiciously. '– But we can't let our previous failures put us down. But it's a new heist, new day.' He took a second to compose himself before continuing. 'So Jack, as you all know, he got got hard. He's still in Los Santos lock-up –'

'Probably getting it up the butt right now,' Geoff interjected, forcing a laugh from Ryan who was stood next to him. Michael wasn't expecting jokes. Tentatively, he continued. 'S-so we brought in Kerry. So that's that.'

'Guys, I appreciate the opportunity,' Kerry said. Geoff gave him a playful shove. It seemed as though he and Kerry knew each other well, but Michael didn't really appreciate him not taking the briefing seriously.

'Okay, so,' Michael began, getting back into it. 'Step number one: complete the fucking heist. Goal number two, have Gavin survive.' That comment hit home hard for Ryan and Ray, who gave each other a disbelieving stare, as if they were confirming that Michael actually had said that. Michael noticed Geoff's eyes narrowing. This wasn't an opportunity to take a dig at the others, it was a heist briefing, so why was Michael being an asshole?

'So,' Ryan said, only just making it into the acceptable time frame to make a comment. 'We're leaving him in the apartment?' He smiled darkly. If Michael was going to take a jab at him, he'd play him at his own game of uncomfortable humour. Ray laughed. 'Yeah, just watch the apartment.'

'That would be boring,' Michael said, but quickly moved on. He turned to the map, pointing at the location of the Crew's apartments. 'We're going to start, right here, at the apartments. As you can see, I drew a little house. This is Plan A, okay? Plan A is alcohol. We gotta get bevved up first. Okay, so, I've scoped out a location. Some of you may be familiar with it, it's a bank. And we're gonna hit it. Hard.' He could see interest make its way onto Geoff's face. Gavin was looking smug, like he knew Michael was going to prove something to the crew. It was getting so real.

'So,' he slammed his finger down on the location of the bank, which had a red circle around it. 'Hit the bank. Now, we're gonna split up into three teams to do this.' He looked at his map, taking a moment to acknowledge his own excitement about his pairs idea. 'I would have had Jack fly the helicopter, but, y'know. So, Kerry. You and Geoff, you guys have gotta get a helicopter, and get it ready. You're providing aerial support. Kerry's gonna be flying, and Geoff, you're gonna be leaning out of the helicopter giving covering fire while we're inside the bank, hitting the bank.'

'Okay,' Geoff said determinedly. He sounded like he was totally on board thus far.

'Gavin, you and I –'

'Team Nice Dynamite!' Gavin interjected. Michael frowned a second before realising he was referencing that stupid slot machine on the pier. He rolled his eyes.

'Uh, sure. Team Nice Dynamite, we'll be hitting the bank, just getting the moneys. We'll be getting the dough, taking out any witnesses, y'know, everything that's gotta be done.'

He turned to his two least favourite people: Ryan and Ray. It was their team he'd had to plan out the most intricately.

'Ryan and Ray, killing machines. You guys are gonna be positioned outside the bank, killing machine, all the cops, I want dead. You need to clear a path for Gavin and I.'

'How are we getting out, Michael?' Gavin asked. His tone wasn't concerned, it was excited.

'Well, when the path is clear, and Ray and Ryan have killed everyone, we're gonna exit the bank, head across the street into this alley. Gavin and I will have two tanks waiting for us. I know a guy, ex-military, whatever. But we'll have those tanks. We're now gonna take these tanks all the way down into the southern part of the city.' He traced the route on the map with his finger. 'And we're gonna merge into the subway, here. At one point, the trolley goes underground, and you can get the tanks in the tunnel. Gavin and I are gonna lose the cops in the tunnels. Now, the other side of the tunnels, there we'll have bicycles waiting. The bicycle ride should be about forty feet to the boat. Then, we get in the boat, we're gonna try and make it all the way around here –' he traced a path around the south-east coast. 'This is where the meeting point is. That's how Gavin and I get out.'

He moved his arm back up to the location of the other teams, now he was finished with himself and Gavin. 'Now, Ray and Ryan,' he began, nodding to the two men in question, but before he could begin to explain, Kerry put his hand up.

'Kerry?'

'Yeah, question. Are we still in the air?' He pointed between himself and Geoff. Michael frowned and answered quickly, 'Yeah.' He was going to get to them in a minute.

'Anyway, Ray and Ryan, you guys are killing, okay. We've got a tried-and-true tactic, I'm sure it'll be fine. You guys are gonna get away on the motorcycle.'

'A motorcycle?' Ryan said cynically, but it didn't bring Michael down when he answered, 'Yes.' forcefully.

'So you guys are gonna leave, and you wanna head north, and take the cops, who'll follow you into Los Santos County. You wanna come up here, loop around, and come from the north here and meet us at the point. But, half way through, you're gonna have to ditch your bike and swap it for a car that  _Geoff's_ gonna plant. And you guys will ride back to the meeting point.'

'When do I plant the car?' Geoff said. Michael was suddenly taken back to when he was learning to drive, and his instructor kept asking him annoying questions.

'At the beginning, before the heist goes down,' Michael said bluntly, to which Geoff simply replied with, 'Okay.'

'Now, you and Kerry will be in the helicopter,' Michael started, addressing Geoff. 'All this shit will go down, but you guys are gonna fly off, lose the cops. When you lose the cops, you gotta land the helicopter right near the Vinewood sign. There'll be a car waiting for you guys, we'll have that planted, again, in the plan. You'll come down through the city, you come from the south side, and you meet up with Ray and Ryan, where there'll be a boat waiting for you. Now,' he turned his attention to the whole crew. 'This is kind of a big job, there's a lot of vehicles, a lot of things in play, so we'll have an extra contributor helping out with the boat. They're trusted, they –'

'You're bringing an outside man?' Geoff said. Michael's heart skipped a beat before he could answer; he knew what Geoff did when outside people screwed things up for him.

'Yeah, I'm bringing an outsider. It's good to go. This is just like a black market dealer, no names.' He composed himself before going back to the task at hand. 'So, there's a boat waiting for you guys. You get in the boat, all three teams travel east over here, we hit international waters, that's where we split the money and go our separate ways.'

Michael thought he was done, when Ryan casually put his hand up. 'Question. What kind of boat is there waiting for us?'

'A, uh, a speeder, I believe. A four-seat speeder.'

'Yeah. Seems like that's missing a couple of seats,' Ryan said slyly. Geoff's eyes widened. 'Ooooh,' he added. How was Michael going to explain that?

'Well, Gavin and I already have a boat, Ryan. There's two boats. C'mon.' Despite his explanation, Michael could feel sweat collecting on his forehead.

'It's like he's not even listening,' Geoff said playfully, but Ryan didn't appreciate the humour.

'Everybody good?' Michael said. He didn't want random questions like that sprung on him again. 'We good to go? Yes? Okay, let's do it.'

Everyone got out of their seats, and started to move towards the door way to leave. They had to go and set everything up before they could do the heist. Just as he was about to leave, Michael grabbed Geoff's arm and pulled him back.

'Geoff,' he said under his breath, making sure the others weren't paying attention. 'I was wondering if I could just have a word.'

Geoff looked suspicious, but followed Michael back into his living room. Michael closed the door, peering out of the window to make sure that everyone was getting back into their cars.

'What is it?' Geoff said, sounding impatient.

'It's about the heist,' Michael said, feeling nervous. He was looking right at Geoff, whose eyes moved up and met Michael's. 'I have another job for you.'

 


	13. Planning and Planting

The next day was the day to get things prepared. There was no point in hanging around waiting for the grass to grow, when they could get straight into planning and planting all the details they would need for the heist.

Geoff had the whole crew at his apartment before they all left together. On the shopping list was weapons, outfits, and as per request of Ryan and Ray, masks.

Michael turned out to be the last to arrive, but for some reason no one seemed to mind. Ryan and Ray were discussing what sort of masks they should get (something of which Michael really didn't understand the importance), while Geoff was carefully selecting what liquor to have out for before they did the heist. Michael knew he'd appreciate Plan A.

'Geoff, don't forget to whip out the bong, yeah?' Ray said across the room, temporarily halting his conversation with Ryan. Geoff gave him a smirk, and nipped over to a cupboard in his living room where he reached in and pulled out a dusty, orangey-red glass bong. It wasn't the one Ray had been using when Michael had first come here. This one was obviously for special  occasions . He laughed. 'Man, it's been like three million years since this has been used.' He went to hand it over to Ray, but Ryan took it off of him before Ray could get it.

'This is so stupid,' he said. 'If you use this, you know you're gonna breathe in more dust than actual drugs, right?' Ray gave a playful sneer and took it off Ryan, half-heartedly wiping the instrument on his shirt. 'It'll be fine. Gonna get blaaaaazed!' Ryan rolled his eyes, and Geoff came back over to the kitchen to supervise his liquor selection again.

'So Michael,' Kerry said, coming over to the kitchen. Michael didn't say anything, and instead waited for Kerry to go forward with whatever it was he was going to say. Michael didn't really know what to think of Kerry. He just seemed a bit bumbling and foolish, but he didn't believe that Geoff would hire him if he actually was. Also, there's no way Geoff would put himself out like he had that night in the bar for someone who was useless. 'Are we gonna have code names?'

Michael snorted, and looked at Geoff for confirmation that Kerry was being serious. Geoff wasn't paying attention, and didn't meet Michael's eyes. 'Nah, fuck that,' he said. Kerry looked relieved, and laughed. 'Yeah, I mean, I just called you Michael anyway.' There was a pause. 'Could I have a code name anyways?'

Michael looked Kerry up and down, before saying, 'How about Dragonface?'

Kerry didn't know what to think about that, but his train of thought was interrupted when Ray butt in from the other side of the apartment. 'How about Pack Jattillo?' he laughed. Kerry laughed too. 'I like that,' he said.

Michael didn't laugh, and instead turned to Geoff. 'What's that?' he asked, nodding to the alcohol in Geoff's hands.

'This might be your heist, Michael, but Plan A is my speciality. So I want to make sure I carry it out well.' Michael smiled. He had no problem with Geoff taking charge of alcohol consumption. In fact, it was one of the few traits about Geoff that Michael didn't deplore: his taste in alcohol.

Once he was satisfied with his choice, Geoff turned around to address the apartment. 'Alright, guys. Come on, we've got shopping to do.'

The crew all followed Geoff out and down to their respective garages, and in Michael's case, to his car that he'd parked outside. Ray and Ryan went together as they were in the same team and wanted to wear the same thing, so they left on their own.

It took them some time to make it to Vespucci beach, but it was totally worth it for the masks. They didn't know what it was, but there was something about a good mask that made a heist so much more worthwhile.

Ryan's careless driving didn't make them popular with the crowds of tourists that lined the promenade, but he didn't particularly care. Vespucci was the sort of place where people will get vocally pissed off at you, but won't take it any further than that. Besides, most tourists weren't from Los Santos, and the reputation of the city was almost a pre-warning for bad behaviour they might face on the beach.

Skidding the car to a halt exactly outside of the mask shop, Ryan and Ray eagerly climbed out, practically reaching for the racks of masks before they were even near them. On and off a constant stream of masks came to their face, examining themselves in the mirror and comparing, until Ryan found the perfect one.

'Hey Ray,' he said, turning around to face his companion. 'What do you think of “Black Bloody Hockey”?' He let Ray get a good look at the mask, which was black, with red paint pouring down it like dripping blood. Ray couldn't see the devilish grin Ryan was sporting behind the mask, but oh, it was there alright. 'It gives a kind of army-of-two vibe.'

Ray agreed that he loved the mask, remembering that he'd picked it out back before the Dealership Heist, and they both paid for their masks. 'So, shall we get matching outfits?' Ray said. If they were going down the mask route, it only made sense that they went all out.

'Oh, I like where your head's at,' Ryan said. 'What's a good killing-everybody outfit?' he said aloud to himself as he began to browse the clothes on the racks. 'Camouflage?'

It seemed perfect. Kitted out in their bloody masks in complete camouflage, Ryan and Ray were going to look amazing. The two browsed in silence until Ryan pulled out a lemon-yellow shirt, looking at it with wonder. 'The “Signs V-neck” is, I think, kind of appropriate.' Ray could hear the smile in his voice, and flicked through the clothes faster to find the shirt that Ryan was referencing. When he found it, he burst out laughing. Ryan was right: it was absolutely appropriate. 'Alright, we need to find pants,' Ray said, handing his money over to the cashier and following Ryan into his car.

Ryan agreed, pushing the handbrake down and putting the car into drive. This time, he was more careful not to ram into any tourists, now the mask excitement had subsided. It didn't take them long to reach the Binco on Palomino Avenue in Little Seoul. They decided on a cheap pair of urban camouflage shorts. They didn't really mind that they weren't paying loads – people would be way too preoccupied by their amazing masks and shirts. Before they were about to leave, they decided to pick up a pair of Leopard Athletic Shoes each. Ryan and Ray were having way too much fun with their heist gear.

Once their clothes shopping was concluded, Ryan and Ray drove to Ammu-Nation to meet up with the rest of the crew, who were already browsing weapons. This was a part of the planning that couldn't be taken quite as lightly as clothing, although Geoff was sure to laugh at the two when they walked in with their ridiculous outfits.

Geoff went ahead and started choosing accessories for the assault rifle he was buying. Tint, grip, extended clip, suppressor, scope, he was having the works. The final product set him back $10,000, but that was hardly a scratch on Geoff's bank account. Besides, after this heist, he was going to be rolling in it.

For good measure, he decided to pick himself up a shotgun too, in case there was any short range he'd have to deal with. From the helicopter, that was unlikely, but in Geoff's experience he knew one thing: you could never be too sure. Again, he picked every accessory he could for it, totalling to $11,000. Where any regular person would faint at those prices, Geoff only saw it as $21,000 well spent.

'I am spending money like a motherfucker,' he said lightly. He knew it would put pressure on Michael, and he wanted to know how he'd behave with that. But Michael seemed surprisingly unaffected by Geoff's efforts to pile on the stress. 'I should hope so, Geoff, we're hitting a bank!' It was probably careless for him to mention it out loud, but Geoff had close ties with Ammu-Nation. Nothing was going to get repeated.

Once everyone was stocked up on ammo and new weapons, they all headed back to the apartment building. They didn't bother going back inside. Instead Geoff addressed them all in front of the building. 'Alright, we all ready? Everything good? Michael, all that vehicle crap, you're sure it's done?'

'Yeah, positive.'

'Okay. Well, this isn't supposed to take place for two days, but I think we're all good and ready. So I'm pulling it a day forward.'

'To tomorrow?' Gavin said.

'Yep. Tomorrow's the day, boys. This better be good. Alright, I'll see you all then.'

And with that everyone went their own ways, although Michael was actually the only person whose own way was different from everyone else's. Before he got in his car, he gave Lindsay a quick call to tell her things were being pulled forward a day and he needed everything for tomorrow. She was happy to oblige.

Michael got in the car, beaming. This had been such a stressful ordeal, and he'd been dreading it. But now,  _now_ he could say he was finally excited to see it through.


	14. Michael's Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's on.

Everyone was at Geoff's early the next day. They wanted to be sure they had as much time as they needed to complete the heist and all get out okay. Geoff was eager to hand out his finely chosen alcohol to everyone, except Ryan and Ray who abstained from drinking. Instead, Ray hit the dusty bong (crudely polished), and Ryan just had a Diet Coke. They all clinked their glasses, or in Ray's case, the bong, to good luck that day, and made their way out.

Kerry called his mechanic to deliver one of his less impressive cars: an old station wagon that could carry all of them in. It was cheap, and didn't matter if it got destroyed, and that was the entire purpose of it.

They all had to get to the bank, but they weren't going in a car. First, there was a trip to be taken to the airport. This was where Lindsay had first come in, because she'd left a helicopter in her own private hangar there. Kerry parked the car somewhere inconspicuous, and they all joined in with doing their best to physically destroy it. Smashing in windows, bursting tyres, denting the doors. That way, if anyone were to come across it, Kerry could claim it on his insurance, and the police would just assume it had been stolen from him. Perfect.

Michael had the key to the hangar; Lindsay had given him it a few days ago after she'd gotten the helicopter there. All the other vehicles she'd dealt with last night after Michael had called her, but the helicopter had been done way in advance.

It was a bit scary walking across the barren landscape of an airport runway, but luckily they made it across before any planes got there. Most of the planes at this time in the morning used the other runway, which turned out to be a lucky coincidence, not something Michael had factored into the equation.

Inside the hangar were the keys to the chopper, and Michael tossed them over to Kerry. 'You're pilot today, you take these.' Kerry looked a little bit like he'd just been handed the key to Atlantis, but once they were all in the chopper, albeit pretty squished together, Kerry appeared to fly just fine.

Now they were headed for the bank. Michael, Gavin, Ryan and Ray were all going to parachute out to their respective locations, while Geoff remained in the chopper with Kerry. All the vehicles they were going to use were already in place, so it was just a case of triggering the whole thing now.

'Now, don't land on the roof, because you'll die when you fall off,' Michael said, primarily to Gavin, whom he knew would end up doing something like that. Gavin's high spirits didn't falter, and he fastened his parachute as tight as possible. Ray and Ryan took out their masks and secured them onto their faces. Michael thought they looked ridiculous, but he couldn't help but think that they really did suit those two.

'You ready?' Michael said, leaning out of the door of the chopper. Gavin was right behind him, Ray and Ryan waiting at the back of the queue. Gavin gave Michael a massive grin, indicating he was ready. He was more than ready. Michael smiled back, a wild excitement in his eyes. 'Alright. Three, two, one...' He threw himself out of the helicopter, screaming, 'HEIST!'

Gavin, Ryan and Ray were shortly behind him, a plume of colour filling the air as they all deployed their parachutes and descended to the ground.

'Once you guys go in, Ryan and I will melt everybody,' Ray said once they'd all reached the ground.

'Wait for the police to show up,' Michael said, getting close to Ryan and Ray so no passer-bys could hear. 'You don't want to pre-emptively start killing people.' Ray rolled his eyes. Actually, he would love to pre-emptively start killing people. But it wasn't his heist and he wasn't going to start fucking things up for everyone, as much as he'd love to ruin things for Michael.

Gavin picked himself up and came over, having fallen over onto the entrance steps on landing from his descent. Michael checked he was okay, and that everyone knew what they were doing, before following Gavin into the bank.

'WHERE'S THE MONEY?' Michael yelled, his gun aimed at all the cashier stations. Gavin pulled his rifle out too, also running around with it held high. 'Is it over here?' Michael said, running through to the next room which led into the vaults. Unlike Gavin, he hadn't noticed that there was something wrong.

The room Michael had gone into had been the wrong one, and, frustrated, he burst back into the main lobby, searching frantically for the right entrance into the vaults. Through a door he found was some stairs, which Michael ran up with no time to lose. 'Things are about to kick off,' he told himself. Privately, he was concerned. He'd told Geoff they'd be in and out really quickly, but he still couldn't find where the money was kept. They were losing precious minutes.

He came to a stop, trying to figure out what to do. In his pause he suddenly came to a sudden realisation, one Gavin hadn't had the balls to bring up. 'It's looking a little empty,' he said cautiously.

Suddenly he heard a siren outside, jerking him back into action. 'Wait! You know what I realised? Dude, it's Wednesday!' He was screaming into Gavin's face, but he had no idea what Michael was talking about. 'The bank's closed on Wednesday!' The panic was rising in Michael's voice. How had he been so fundamentally stupid? He'd planned the heist for a Thursday. He'd  _checked_ the bank's opening times ages ago! He fucking  _knew_ it was closed on a Wednesday!

'No one's in the bank! Okay, okay!' He started frantically thinking, running down the stairs with more force than he'd had coming up them. Gavin ran in his wake, his gun flailing wildly as he held it in just one hand.

As they ran out into the bright daylight, they were met with the scene of Ryan and Ray in all-out gun warfare with the police cars that had shown up. Quickly as he could, Michael dialled Geoff's number, yelling down the phone that they were going to hit the convenience store north-east from the bank, and hanging up before he even had a chance to hear Geoff's reply. He'd obviously gotten the message, though, as Michael saw Kerry manoeuvre the helicopter in the air to travel north-east.

'We're killing cops!' Ray yelled. He was fuming that Michael had made such a fundamental error, and due to the nature of the job that he and Ryan had been assigned, they couldn't just escape and run down to the convenience store like Michael and Gavin could.

But Ryan grabbed his arm anyway. 'Let's go, Ray!' He pulled him away, police bullets whistling past them and ricocheting off the buildings beside them. They jumped on a motorcycle that was parked a few feet away, and luckily Ryan could hotwire it in the short space of time that the police took to reload their weapons.

Michael and Gavin took the first car they could find on the street, smashing into it with no remorse. The police were focussed on Ray and Ryan, and that gave Michael enough time to wrench the ignition cover from under the steering wheel and get to hotwiring the car. By the time they were away, Ray and Ryan had made it into an alley just beside the shop.

'Now we got cover!' Ray said, grateful that their compromise was providing some kind of safety to them.

The sound of sirens wailing came from every direction, and Michael could feel sweat pooling beneath his palms as he screamed instructions to Gavin. As they pulled up, an explosion erupted down the street.

'WHAT WAS THAT?' Michael screamed. Ryan, who was just beside the car, yelled that it had been a cop car, and they were blowing them up. Satisfied with the explanation, Michael grabbed his rifle from behind him and forced his way out of the vehicle. He ran up to the door of the convenience store before being met with the worst thing he could think of.

'THE CONVENIENCE STORE IS CLOSED?' He couldn't believe it. How had everything gone from a hundred to zero in such a short space of time. Just because he'd been too fucking eager to do the heist. He felt his hands rip through his hair from panic. He didn't know what to do.

'Do you have a Plan D?' Ray yelled, half sarcastically, at the panicking Michael. To screw up the bank so badly was one thing, but for the back-up plan to not work either. Ray knew he'd always been right about Michael. He was overcome with the feeling that not getting a bullet through his face back at the Dealership Heist was the biggest mistake of his life.

'Hang on! Hang on, hang on, hang on!' Michael yelled, pulling out his phone and diving round a corner so he could use it. 'I'm calling a guy!' As he called back around the building, he saw that Gavin had joined Ryan and Ray in shooting the cops. No, no, no! This was not how it was supposed to happen!

'Gavin!' he yelled as the phone rang. 'Take the car, and hide around the corner!'

'Okay!' Gavin yelled back, and nonchalantly climbed into the car, which was still running from when Michael and Gavin had exited it. Despite not having a driver's license, he managed to get himself around the corner safely, where he got out of the car, poised with his gun, just in case he had to act quickly.

More explosions. Michael looked up, and could see Geoff leaning right out of the helicopter, aiming right down at the police cars. Combined with the ground efforts of Ryan and Ray, the cops were going down in the masses, the cars parked too close together going up in flames whenever someone got a good aim on them.

Michael's contact hadn't picked up, and instead he'd spotted another convenience store across the road which he could rob. 'I'm going in the store!' he shouted, running straight for it. Gavin was the only one who'd heard him, and so took it upon himself to act as external back-up until Michael was out again.

'GIVE ME THE MONEY!' Michael screamed at the cashier as loud as he could, his rifle aimed right into the man's face. The fear in the man was like nothing Michael had seen before, but right now he didn't care. He needed that money. He didn't know what Geoff would do to him if they didn't have a take, and if not Geoff, Ray. The heist had to be completed.

By this point, it wasn't just the cop cars they were facing; helicopters were now filling the skies, gunmen leaning out and aiming right down at where Ryan and Ray were based. Geoff did what he could to shoot them, but his police counterparts were a lot harder to aim at than those on the ground. He'd never felt as outnumbered in a heist as he did right then.

It was as if Ryan and Ray were constantly reloading, their ammo depleting faster than they could keep up with. They could swap out weapons, but eventually they would run out. Neither of them would admit it, but they were both worried. They'd never been this overwhelmed with attack before, and they didn't know how they were going to see this through.

Bullets were rocketing past them, missing them by inches. They bounced off the ground and slashed the skin on Ryan and Ray's legs, providing wounds substantial, but not enough to bring them down. The pain was unimaginable, but they bit down and continued. They weren't going to let a load of police scum get them down.

'Here we go!' Michael yelled to himself as the cashier threw all the money he had down onto the counter. He covered his face, but it didn't stop Michael from unloading into him. 'Fuck you, I got the money!' He scooped it up as fast as he could, pulling his gun to one side so he could carry both the firearm and the money.

'Gavin!' he screamed as he ran out of the store. He couldn't see him, but he knew he could be heard. 'Across the street, into the alley!' Michael didn't even bother to look around. He was running through a warzone, directly between Ryan and Ray and down the alley in which they were taking cover. If he hung around to look to see where Gavin was, he would be killed.

Gavin was on his tail, and Michael climbed and hauled himself over the fence at the end of the alley. Checking that the money was still okay, he went on through to the next alley: the one in which Lindsay had hidden the tanks. Thank God that hadn't gone wrong.

Gavin wasn't far behind, and they both climbed into their tanks. Neither of them had driven one of these before, and it was going to be a task to figure out how. Looking down, Michael couldn't figure out why there were six pedals if there were only four directions – how did that even make sense?

The heat was getting so intense that Ryan reached the point where he was pulling out his grenade launcher to fire at oncoming police vehicles. There were so many that he didn't know how to deal with them all at once. He tried to remain calm, but inside he was frantic. How the fuck was he going to survive this?

Geoff managed to bring down a chopper, and taking that as his cue to move out, instructed Kerry to follow the heist plan and leave. Gavin and Michael were out – they didn't need to stay any longer.

Ryan and Ray looked at each other for a brief second. The world was ending around them, and their crew was moving on to the next point of their heist. Maybe it was their turn to leave too.

But the police just kept on coming, and if they left now they would just end up getting killed later on. They had to finish this. They were on their last rounds, but they were sure to aim perfectly, expanding the blood bath that was unfolding in front of them. Ryan was honing in all his skill to get the police directly. But they were doing the same, and before he'd even noticed it, Ryan felt a cold wash over him, and his limp body fall backwards. He'd been shot. He didn't even have time to acknowledge what had happened before his corpse hit the floor.

'RYAN!' Ray screamed. There was genuine anguish in his voice. He and Ryan had been there together, just now, and now he was dead, just a memory sprawled on the floor, bleeding out on the dirty ground.

Ray knew it was impossible, but he didn't even let himself think about the fact that he wasn't going to be able to hold off all the police on his own. He was fucked. He had to leave now or he was done for. But not before he took out as many cops as he could with his last round to thank them for the dead body they'd left him.

'YOU BASTARDS!' He was screaming so loudly, and yet he could hardly hear it above the gunfire coming at him from all directions. When he felt three sudden bursts of pain right through his abdomen, he knew it was over. He'd stayed to avenge his friend, and he'd paid the price. Now all that was left of the pair was a couple of cold, lifeless bodies, their masks red with both a mixture of paint and blood.

Michael felt the phone in his pocket begin to buzz. He knew he shouldn't pick it up, and he wasn't going to, but then he saw Geoff's caller ID on the front. This was going to be important.

'What!?' he spat down the phone, trying to remain in control of the tank as he did.

'Ray and Ryan are dead,' Geoff said calmly. Michael didn't even reply. There was a mutual understanding between he and Geoff, and both were grateful that, at last, something had gone to plan.

 


	15. A Secret Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

'So what's this other job?' Geoff leant against the wall, sounding impatient and wondering why it was Michael was keeping him behind.

Michael hadn't completely planned how he was going to bring it up with Geoff. He just figured he'd go for it and see what happens. He bit his lip, and then decided to just come out with it.

'Do you trust Ryan and Ray?' He looked directly at Geoff, whose expression changed from one of boredom to one of interest. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

'Why?'

'Never mind why, Geoff. Just... Do you?'

Geoff paused for a moment before answering. 'No.'

Michael felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was the answer he'd been hoping for. This was going to make things run a lot more smoothly than if Geoff had said yes.

'Good,' he said, and turned to his map. Now he could tell Geoff what he'd really wanted to. 'Ray and Ryan are definitely going to die in their part. Before they get to the bike. I want them dead.'

He paused before knowing whether to go on, but Geoff wasn't getting mad, or annoyed, or even slightly irritated. He was listening genuinely. It appeared that, even though they hadn't tried to kill  _him_ , Geoff wanted them dead too.

'Ryan's gonna fucking betray everybody. We're all dead if Ryan's in play. Or, well, at least Gavin and I. And who knows, maybe even Kerry. Ray? I can't trust him. Did you see the way he tried to take me out that time? I don't want someone like that on our team, because I feel threatened. Right? So, hopefully they die on the bikes, or before, but if they don't die, the vehicle that you're gonna plant is gonna have explosives in it.'

'Ignition bomb?' Geoff said. He sounded like he'd done this before.

'Ignition bomb, right. So the second they start the car, BOOM. Okay, hopefully they both die, but if one of them survives, well, we're all gonna be spread out, and they're gonna be by themselves in the middle of the woods. They're not gonna know what's happening, and you just play dumb. Sometimes shit goes wrong!'

Michael could see a muscle in Geoff's face twitch. When it came to his heists, shit just didn't 'go wrong'. But for this, there had to be a compromise. Ryan and Ray had to die, or Michael was screwed. It was something that, miraculously, Geoff appeared to agree with too. So yeah, maybe shit 'going wrong' wasn't his style, but he knew why it would be important.

'And if that happens, we'll just fucking take out the other one when we get to the meeting point. I think that's good, and then the three of us escape, split the money, and you get a bigger pay-day.'

Geoff stood still, a wry smile working its way onto his face. He was down for this. Ray had been getting on his nerves a lot recently. Ryan would be a shame to lose for him; Geoff had always gotten on with Ryan, and they worked well together. But he was like a wild animal who'd been tamed and was now losing it. He was getting more out of control with every job they did. Geoff didn't know why, but he did know that he couldn't have a ticking time-bomb like that on his team.

'Ray has just,' Geoff started. Michael wasn't expecting a comment, so he was taken by surprise when Geoff started talking. 'He's just been really, I don't know, weird lately. He's been obsessive over random shit from the past. I don't know what's got him.'

'Wha – really? What's he been saying?'

'I don't know, y'know? I mean –' Geoff got his words together before continuing. 'Ray came to Los Santos last year after a member of his crew got killed back in Liberty City. He was so mad that the guy who did it didn't get taken down for murder, he just upped and left the state. Left everything behind. Like, from what I can tell, Ray was a fucking success back in Liberty. He had a  _lot_ of money, and his crew, well,  _I_ would be proud to have one that good. But he just fucking lost it after this guy got killed. I don't know, I guess he was used to being so untouchable, and invincible, and when that happens, it screws with a guy, y'know? But he was just so mad that this guy hadn't gotten a full sentence. And I was always like, look, Ray, sometimes shit happens, and you gotta deal with it! But he never could let go. I mean, cool, he could do his job, so I didn't care much. But recently, he's been bringing it up so much. Like, it's so uncalled for, and I don't know why he suddenly has it on his mind constantly? But it's fucking annoying. That was ages ago, y'know. Who even knows what's happened to the murderer.'

Michael could feel his teeth grinding together as he'd subconsciously clamped his jaw shut. When Geoff was done, he nodded slightly. He didn't know what to say, but he did understand why Ray was annoying Geoff. But knowing Ray was that angry, so constantly... It made Michael feel even more threatened.

'We're gonna get them, alright? Let's do it.' There was a determination in his voice that he didn't even know was there. Geoff nodded acknowledgingly, and Michael showed him out, feeling so much better knowing that Geoff was on board.

 


	16. Tanking It

Michael and Gavin found that they were owning the streets with their tanks, rampaging down the now-empty roads, their cannons aimed at anything that might get in their way. If anyone came after them now, police or pedestrians, they were ready.

Geoff and Kerry were already on the way to their next point, soaring above the city. Kerry turned out to fly less well under pressure, and Geoff really wished he had Jack flying him right then, but it would do. As long as they weren't crashing, screaming and dying, Geoff could hold on to his gratitude.

The sirens still sang through the city as Gavin and Michael tore down to the subway. The tanks only had a limited terminal velocity, but their force was enough to drive anyone off the roads. Police cars would come zooming round corners, only to be met with the brutal face of a tank cannon. As long as Gavin and Michael could get to where they were going okay, things would be fine. And right now, it looked like they were onto it.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,' Michael spat to himself as more and more police cars came into contact with him, helicopters appearing from round the sides of buildings. He knew they could hardly hurt him, but he still didn't want them all around him, especially if they knew where he was going. How could they _lose_ the cops in the subway if the cops _followed_ them into the subway?

Gavin took it upon himself to deal with the sky situation while simultaneously trying to manoeuvre the tank to the subway. Cannons fired from the end of his tank directly into the helicopters swarming above him. An explosion in the sky, and then debris would rain down onto the street around him, landing in trees, on cars, in people's property, some pieces on fire and some covered in the remains of police officers.

'Please tell me I'm going the right way,' Michael whispered as he did his best to dodge the police cars following him.

Meanwhile, in the skies, Geoff and Kerry had their own problems. 'Oh God,' Geoff said, leaning out of the side of the chopper to examine the damage. 'Looks like we're smoking a little bit up here.' They weren't far from the Vinewood sign, and they would be landing soon, but he still didn't want them to catch fire before they had the chance.

'Y'know,' Kerry said calmly as he set the helicopter to land. 'It's like 4.19 in here.'

Geoff really didn't want to, but he couldn't help himself but to burst out laughing. It was the worst situation in which to do so, and he really didn't want to be laughing right now, but he was also kind of grateful for the lift of his mood.

After calming down a bit, he focused more on the task at hand. 'I see the car! I see the getaway car!' he yelled at Kerry, who had also spotted it. The helicopter began its descent, something for which Geoff was immensely grateful as demonstrated by the fact he was clearly itching to jump from the chopper.

'Oh my God, that's perfect! Textbook landing!' he yelled as the chopper came to a halt on the ground. Geoff had never felt so grateful to feel the earth beneath his feet as he jumped out and made a bee-line for the getaway car. This was nearly it, he could almost taste the end. He pulled away, and boom, just like that, he and Kerry were on the last leg of their job.

Gavin and Michael were just pulling into the subway, a trail of mangled cop cars and helicopters in their wake. Gavin followed Michael into the tunnel, both of them being careful not to trigger their tanks to fire. They bared round to the right, where Michael and Gavin climbed out of their tanks, opting to run the rest of the way out. They were convinced they'd lost the cops now, it would be harder to hide the tanks outside the tunnel than inside.

Just as planned, their bikes were waiting for them outside the end of the tunnel, tucked around by the side. Michael couldn't help feeling a pang of regret, as, at this point, he was exhausted, and could really do without cycling. But still, he couldn't complain about that now. They just had to get on with it.

It was only about fifty feet to the bridge, under which sat the jetty housing their boat. As they reached it, Geoff and Kerry made it to the boat on the beach waiting for them. Through their own exhaustion, it took them a surprising amount of effort to wade out to it, but once they'd climbed in, it felt so relieving. The boat bobbed up and down next to a sister one, to whom they did not know it belonged, but they didn't care. Geoff lay on the back seat of the speeder, breathing deeply. He was covered in sweat, and grime, and was just so tired. It had been a difficult day, but it wasn't over.

Gavin and Michael climbed into their own respective boat, Gavin taking the wheel as he could see how tired Michael was. Although Michael was appreciative of the gesture, he wasn't particularly enjoying how terrible Gavin was at driving the boat. Perhaps he should have stuck to the tank.

But despite this, they made it to Geoff and Kerry alright. They pulled up to the boat, and everything looked like it was going to be okay.


	17. To Live and Die in Los Santos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand finale. Questions are answered.

'So shall we jump out and get in your boat?' Geoff called over. When Michael didn't answer for a second, Geoff tried again. 'Hello? I said, shall we jump out and get in your boat?' Michael looked up, like he hadn't heard Geoff the first time. His eyes were glazed over. He was thinking. The salt of the ocean air was matting his hair, and the stains of sweat and blood and dirt covered his face. He was cold, and he knew they all wanted to go.

'Uh, um. Yes. Yeah, okay,' he said quietly, but it was enough for Geoff, who was ready to just leave now. No one really picked up on the disappointment in Michael's voice.

When Geoff and Kerry were seated in Gavin and Michael's boat, Michael's mind was racing. The others were starting to think he wasn't going to drive them anywhere, when suddenly there was a massive explosion on a nearby rock. It took three of them by genuine surprise, but it only made Michael feel worse. He was almost too tired to pretend that he didn't know what was going on.

'What the fuck?'

'What was that?'

'Is someone trying to fucking kill us?' Michael said, getting more into character of acting surprised at the explosion. He turned the boat around, and the brought it to a halt, clearing his throat. He'd made his mind up.

He could feel panic rising inside him. Things had gone so wrong, so badly wrong. But he was going to have to deal with it himself now. It was his heist, his plan, his responsibility. While everyone was still looking over the side of the boat to see what had happened, Michael cocked a pistol he had on him under the steering wheel. This was going to be difficult, but he really had himself to think about. His freedom.

'So,' he started, pulling the attention of the three men to himself. 'As expected, Ryan and Ray died horribly.' Kerry and Gavin's faces turned to horror, but Geoff remained expressionless. He, of course, had known about the plan to kill off Ryan and Ray. But he didn't know what Michael was doing now. 'But you guys were supposed to die too. In that boat.' He was staring into space, his emotions caught in his throat. Along with Gavin and Kerry, Geoff's face fell too. What the fuck was going on?

Michael's eyes moved over to where the explosion had originated. There, he could see Lindsay standing on the rock, looking like she didn't know what to do. What was Michael going to do?

'I'm sorry,' Michael said. 'But I can't get caught for this. I need out, I need my freedom. I can't be done for murder, not – GAVIN NO!' Gavin was faffing, trying to take the gun off of Michael that he'd just spotted him hiding. 'Gavin, stop.' Gavin was clearly going into panic, he had no idea what was going on. Geoff was getting suspicious. He suddenly got the feeling that he was not only double-crossing Ryan and Ray, but being double-crossed himself. Michael, that sneaky, sneaky bastard. He curled his hand over the gun down by his side, ready to end Michael before he could be ended himself.

But he was just that one step behind, and in a sudden burst of fury and panic, Michael unloaded the pistol into Geoff's face. Where his terrifying boss had once been sitting was now an unrecognisable mess of flesh and bone, blood exploded across the back of the boat. The sound of the gunshot was still echoing in the cliffs nearby.

Gavin was now going into full panic. He didn't know where he stood; he thought he and Michael were friends, but now he was going to be facing his death. What the fuck was he going to do?

But while that was happening, Kerry was already scrambling to get out of the boat. Gavin dove into the water while Michael opened fire on Kerry. He didn't really want to do that – Kerry had never done anything to Michael. But he just couldn't risk it. When his trail of bullets fired through Kerry's skull, and his body went weak and tumbled out of the boat, Michael put the gun down.

'Gavin,' he said quietly. He could see Gavin out of the corner of his eye, treading water about ten feet away from the boat. 'It all went to shit.'

Gavin was still panicking in the water, not knowing whether to attempt to swim away or go back to the boat. Either way, if he was Michael's next target, he wasn't going to make it. He just found himself frozen to the spot.

'Come back here, you're safe,' Michael said, louder this time.

'I don't trust you, Michael!' Gavin yelled across the splash of the sea. He couldn't process what he was seeing: Kerry's dead body floating beside the boat, Geoff's brain blown out and the remains sticking to the back of Michael's boat.

'Nah, you're safe. It's fine. My expert boat-goer, there,' he said slightly loudly, throwing a dark glare over at Lindsay on the rock. 'Marked the wrong fucking boat, and blew it up.'

'Wait, who did?' Gavin said, climbing back into the boat with Michael's help. Michael's expression was softer this time. There was no point in staying angry. What was done, was done.

'Lindsay, you wanna come over here?' He slowly drove the boat over to the rock so that Lindsay could climb in. Gavin suddenly burst out laughing. Not because it was funny, but because he couldn't believe that Michael had planned it this far.

'Time to get on with the original heist plan, where us three get away and split the money three ways. Fuck you, Geoff.'

Upon hearing this, Gavin couldn't help but a kind of relieved happiness fill his veins. He'd felt trapped and miserable as part of the crew for so long, and now Michael had very cleverly used his initiation as a way of getting them both out. Gavin almost couldn't believe his luck. He didn't even care that it had gone wrong. 'So, she marked the wrong boat?'

'Geoff and Kerry took the wrong fucking boat,' Michael said, sitting down in the speeder with Lindsay and Gavin. Geoff's remains were still there. 'Maybe we should climb into the other one,' he said to himself, and started helping Gavin and Lindsay into the other boat (not the one actually laced with sticky bombs) after driving over.

'I can't believe that was the plan,' Lindsay said. To her knowledge, the sticky bombs had been for a decoy. She didn't actually know Michael was planning on killing people with them. But still, it didn't matter now. She knew crime well enough, she knew everything would be okay.

Michael lit a match, and threw it over onto the boat containing Geoff's body. Might as well get rid of the evidence. The dark surface of the water was lit up, and the three could feel the heat on their faces.

'Oh right, I nearly forgot,' Michael said, pulling out the money he'd gotten from the convenience store. 'I can pay out the money. 30% for Gavin... 30% for Lindsay... I'll take 40% since I went through the trouble. And that's it, we're all paid out. Nice.'

The three sat in silence, staring into the blazing fire, before Gavin decided to ask something that had been on his mind for a while. 'So, what was that all about then, Michael? I mean, I hated the crew, you know that. But I hated them because they were arseholes, and I've known them for a bloody long time. What was your actual problem with them?'

Michael took a pause before deciding to answer, but he thought they both deserved to know. 'I know why Ray hated me. Why he hated me from the word go. The second I saw him I knew I was fucked. Ray was in a rival gang to me back in Liberty City. His crew were exceptionally good. They always got what they wanted, and anyone going head-to-head with them, trying to take a job from them, buying from the same dealer, whatever, they were basically signing a death wish. Well, my crew, they got in a conflict with them. After a drugs deal. And one of their best men got shot. By me.' Michael paused. It was something he hadn't spoken about since it had happened, not even in jail. 'Ray was furious. He wanted me dead, but obviously, he couldn't get his own back since I was taken by the police. But the thing was, I didn't get done for murder. They had no proof, and there were no eyewitnesses. So I was arrested for assault. Barred up for eight months, rather than the Death Row I deserved. There are contacts in prison, people know people. And from what I could hear, Ray was even worse once he found out I hadn't been done for murder. He left the state in fury, and that was all I heard. But I knew who he was, obviously. I had no idea he'd moved down to Los Santos, and the second I saw him after being found by Geoff and Ryan, I knew I was a dead man if I stuck around. Hence why Ray tried to take a shot at me as soon as he could. My guess is he told Ryan, because those two thought very similarly, and he was just as much out for my blood.'

Gavin and Lindsay sat in silence, engrossed in Michael's story. Neither of them had realised that Michael's problems with the crew ran so deep.

'Geoff was just bad news,' he continued. 'Bad news who would be more than happy to manipulate me and put me in harm's way to guarantee his own safety. I couldn't trust that, and I couldn't be under the control of that. Ray and Ryan aside, working for Geoff was a death wish. How do you think the asshole got so successful? He sucks what he can get from people, and then leaves them for dead. As far as I could tell, the only person he gave a shit about was Jack.' Michael took a deep breath and blew his cheeks out. 'And then there was Kerry. Ideally, I wouldn't have had to kill him, but he was working with and close to Geoff. How could I trust that? I didn't know the guy. I never wanted to be a part of a crew in Los Santos. Actually,' he smirked, laughing to himself. 'The most valuable advice I received was from Ray. “If you want out, you've got to take a bullet through the skull.” So I just killed everyone else before they had the chance to kill me.'

Michael gave a defeated smile to Gavin and Lindsay. He was tired, and he was glad that he was finally out, and that he'd managed to keep Gavin alive. Lindsay too, but she wasn't part of the crew. She was always going to get out.

'Come on,' he said, exhaustion clear in his voice. He leaned forward to take the wheel of the boat, and angled it gently back towards the beach. 'Let's get back to shore.' And Gavin and Lindsay settled themselves down, clutching their bags of money, skin stinging from the bitter sea wind, their minds on nothing but the bloody demise of the Fake AH Crew.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to leave kudos and comments :D I want to hear what you all think!


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